THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


Boupht  at 
BERTRAND   SMITH 


THE    HOUSEHOLD    OF    McNEIL 


THE 


HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNeil 


BY 


AMELIA   E.  BARR 

AUTHOR  OF  "JAN  VEDDBR'S  WIFE,"  "A.  DAUGHTER  OF  FIFE,' 

"THE  BOW  OF  ORANGE   RIBBON,"    "A  BORDER 

SHEPHEKDKSS,"  ETC,  ETC. 


r 


HUNT  &  EATON,     v 
150    FIFTH    AVENUE, 
NEW  YORK. 


Copyright,  1890, 
BY  ROBERT  BONNER'S  SONS. 


PS 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  THE  FAMILY  OF  MCNEIL 9 

II.  A  DAY  OF  EARTH'S  UNREST     ....  26 

III.  A  SECRET  LETTER  AND  ITS  ISSUES  .    .  49 

IV.  HER  OWN  WAY 72 

V.  GRIZELDA'S  MARRIAGE 90 

VI.  THE  MCNEIL'S  WORK in 

VII.  A  NEW  SORROW 129 

VIII.  BROKEN  PLANS 145 

IX.  PARTING 165 

X.  GRIZELDA'S  HUSBAND 182 

XI.  AGAINST  HER  LIFE 195 

XII.  GRIZELDA  is  LOST 219 

XIII.  MAXWELL  MARRIES  AGAIN 235 

XIV.  COLIN  AND  GRIZELDA 253 

XV.  THE  GIFT  OF  GLADNESS 273 

XVI.  RETRIBUTION 290 

XVII.  THE  LAIRD  is  SATISFIED 310 


2061868 


THE 

HOUSEHOLD    OF    McNEIL. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  FAMILY  OF  McNEIL. 

Thou  huge-heaving  sea, 

Thou  art  speaking  to  me. 

Ever  strong,  ever  free, 

Is  the  breath  of  the  sea  ; 

Ever  rising  with  power 

To  the  call  of  the  hour 

Is  the  swell  of  thy  tides  as  they  flow. 

BLACKIE. 
Strong  are  the  ties  of  kindred  and  long  converse. 

AESCHYLUS. 

Each  man  has  some  one  object  of  pursuit, 
And  lavishes  his  thoughts  delightedly 
On  the  dear  idol. 

WORDSWORTH. 

r  I  ^HERE  had  been  a  glorious  sunset,  red 
-*-  and  radiant,  floating  and  flaming  above 
the  pale  gray  sea,  and  the  pale  gray  rocks, 
and  the  dark  islands  low-lying  amid  the  waste 
of  waters.  But  as  it  faded  away,  the  eerie  sense 
of  the  northern  night  with  all  its  mysteries  came 
over  the  lonely  land,  and  touched  the  hearts  of 


IO  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OP  MCNEIL. 

the  two  men  who  were  slowly  crossing  the 
Soraba  beach,  —  a  firm  expanse  of  the  billowy 
sand,  ribbed  and  water-lined,  and  which  was 
at  this  point  the  "  thus  far  "  boundary  of  the 
stormy  Sound  of  Jura. 

They  had  been  talking  with  much  earnest 
ness,  but  as  the  shadows  grew  darker  they 
spoke  in  lower  tones  and  at  longer  intervals; 
the  pauses  being  fitly  filled  by  the  boom  of  the 
muffled  billows,  or  the  cries  of  the  watchful  sea- 
birds,  —  shrill,  unknown,  secret  cries,  lending  a 
weirder  meaning  to  the  silence. 

They  were  both  noticeable  men,  and  both 
men  of  authority  in  their  own  sphere.  One 
wore  the  sombre  dress  of  a  Presbyterian  minis 
ter;  the  other,  a  handsome  suit  of  dark  brown 
broadcloth,  with  a  tartan  plaid  over  his  shoul 
ders,  and  a  bonnet  tipped  with  an  eagle's  feather 
on  his  head.  The  latter  was  Archibald  McNeil, 
Laird  of  Edderloch  and  Otterdale;  and  his 
companion  was  Dugald  Brodick,  minister  in 
Edderloch,  the  terror  of  evil-doers,  the  friend 
and  helper  of  all  who  did  well. 

As  they  came  nearer  to  the  castle  of  McNeil, 
they  had  to  pass  through  a  fishing  hamlet. 
The  men  in  a  staid,  slow,  noiseless  manner 


THE  FAMILY  OF  MCNEIL.  II 

were  moving  toward  the  boats;  the  women, 
standing  in  the  lone  doors,  watching  them  with 
a  long,  serious  gaze. 

"  The  sea  is  a  hard  taskmaster,  Laird.  It 
canna  rest  itself,  and  it  gives  no  rest  to  those 
who  get  their  bread  on  it." 

"Just  so,  Doctor;  but  the  unrest  and  the 
salt  savour  creep  into  the  blood  of  all  who  live 
near  by  it.  And  I  'm  thinking,  too,  there  is  in 
all  men  a  natural  yearning  for  the  sea.  Once 
a  year,  at  least,  folk  want  to  get  a  sight  of  it ; 
ay,  and  them  that  never  saw  it  have  had  very 
clear  notions  anent  it.  I  'm  thinking  now  of 
Shakespeare." 

"Well?" 

"Well?  Who  knew  it  better?  And  yet, 
unless  it  was  in  his  dreams,  when  did  he  ever 
see  it?  " 

"  Laird,  I  '11  answer  you  in  the  words  of  a 
very  wise  man :  — 

Think  you,  'mid  all  this  mighty  sum 

Of  things  forever  speaking, 
That  nothing  of 'itself 'will  come, 

But  we  must  still  be  seeking  ? * 

Besides,  man,  God  Almighty  yet  gives  to  some 
of  us  the  power  of  vision,  the  faculty  divine  that 

1  Wordsworth. 


12  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

was  doubtless  lost  for  the  main  part  in  the  abyss 
of  the  Fall.  In  all  ages,  men  have  seen  the  sea 
who  never  set  mortal  eyes  on  it.  Where  would 
that  auld  Arabian  Job  get  a  sight  of  such 
mountainous  billows  as  come  down  Jura  Sound ; 
or  David ;  or  the  herdsman  of  Tekoa ;  or 
Jeremiah;  or  Habakkuk;  or  any  of  those 
Hebrew  prophets  and  poets  and  preachers? 
They  never  saw  the  Atlantic  come  thundering 
down  these  narrow  water-ways;  but  they  had 
a  wonderful  clear  vision  as  to  how  it  does  it." 

"  You  have  made  out  your  case,  Doctor,  and 
here  we  are  at  the  door-stone;  will  you  come 
in?" 

"  No ;  we  have  talked  enough  for  one  night." 

He  turned  away  with  the  words ;  and  McNeil 
stood  a  moment  watching  him  descend  the  little 
acclivity  on  which  the  castle  stood.  It  was  not 
an  imposing  building,  though  dignified  with  the 
name  of  "  castle ;  "  but  its  rude  strength  and 
square,  massive  masonry  redeemed  it  from  all 
suspicion  of  meanness.  And  it  had  also  the  air 
of  antiquity;  it  looked  old,  just  as  an  old  man 
has  the  look  of  his  fourscore  years. 

The  door  stood  open,  and  almost  involuntarily, 
as  McNeil  entered,  his  eyes  sought  the  quaint 


THE  FAMILY  OF  McNEIL.  13 

stone  letters  above  it.  They  always  did  so ;  it 
was  a  habit  which  had  become  a  kind  of  super 
stition  with  him,  though  usually  he  attached  no 
importance  to  the  declaration  which  his  fore 
father  had  put  there :  "  A.D.  1449.  I,  man,  have 
the  end  of  all  wisdom.  I  trust  in  God."  Hither 
to  the  words  had  never  roused  a  dissent  in  his 
mind.  They  had  seemed  to  him  truthful  as 
words  could  be.  For  the  first  time  he  felt  the 
chill  of  some  mental  antagonism.  It  was  un 
doubtedly  well  to  trust  in  God,  but  was  there 
not  also  some  active  and  positive  thing  for  him 
to  do?  The  stir  and  movement  of  his  century 
had  found  him  out  in  the  green  desert  where  his 
ancestors  had  lived  and  just  let  their  days  come 
to  them. 

He  had  always  been  a  careful  and  in  many 
ways  a  very  prudent  and  fortunate  man.  He 
had  the  auriferous  touch.  All  his  ventures  had 
ended  in  gold ;  and  Dr.  Brodick  had  been  telling 
him  that  night  that  he  was  already  rich  enough, 
and  that  the  carrying  out  of  certain  new  plans 
which  he  had  formed  would  be  apt  to  bind  him 
to  the  constant  service  of  Mammon. 

He  walked  through  the  wide  stone  hall  with 
a  questioning  look.  Though  it  was  midsummer, 


14  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL. 

there  was  a  bright  fire  at  the  upper  end,  and  a 
large  chair,  soft  with  deer-skins,  stood  before  it. 
Every  night  in  this  cavernous  entry  the  fire  was 
pleasant;  this  night  the  chill  mist  driven  up 
from  the  sea  made  it  doubly  so,  but  McNeil 
did  not  accept  the  mute  invitation  of  the  com 
fortable  chair.  He  went  into  a  little  room  di 
verging  from  the  hall,  lighted  the  candles  in  a 
silver  sconce,  and  took  from  his  locked  desk  a 
book,  which  he  began  to  read  with  profound 
interest. 

It  was  a  stoutly  bound  book,  secured  by  a 
brass  lock,  and  was  in  manuscript.  In  fact,  it 
was  his  private  ledger.  It  kept  the  sum  of  his 
gains  and  the  total  of  his  bank  account.  Its 
contents  seemed  to  give  him  much  solid  satis 
faction  ;  and  when  at  length  he  relockcd  the  vol 
ume,  and  replaced  it  in  his  desk,  it  was  with  all 
the  careful  respect  which  he  considered  due  to 
the  representative  of  so  many  thousand  pounds. 

His  mood  was  now  placid  and  inclined  to 
retrospection.  Thoughtfully  fingering  the  key 
which  locked  up  the  record  of  his  wealth,  he 
walked  to  the  window,  drew  apart  the  heavy 
curtains,  and  looked  keenly  into  the  night.  A 
pale,  watery  moon  was  reflected  in  the  sea  be- 


THE  FA  MIL  Y  OF  Me  NEIL.  I  5 

neath  it;  and  between  lights  the  fishing-boats 
moved  restlessly  to  and  fro.  The  mountains 
and  moors  had  now  no  beauty  of  colour,  —  they 
looked  desolate  and  dreary;  but  the  bare, 
barren  land,  and  the  gray,  mournful  sea,  were 
fair  in  McNeil's  sight.  It  was  the  country  of 
the  McNeils.  He  had  a  fixed  idea  that  it  always 
had  been  their  country;  and  when  he  told  him 
self,  as  he  did  at  that  hour,  that  so  many  acres 
of  old  Scotland  were  actually  his  own,  he  was 
aggressively  a  Scotchman. 

"It  is  a  bonnie  bit  of  land,"  he  muttered; 
"  and  I  have  done  as  my  father,  Laird  Alexan 
der,  told  me  to  do.  If  we  should  meet  in  an 
other  world,  I  '11  be  able  to  give  him  a  good 
account  of  Edderloch  and  Otterdale.  Thirty 
years  ago,  this  very  night,  he  gave  me  the  ring 
off  his  finger,  and  said:  'Archibald,  I  am  going 
the  way  of  all  flesh.  Be  a  good  man,  and  grip 
tight'  I  have  done  as  he  bid  me.  There  are 
£  80,000  in  the  Bank  of  Scotland,  and  every 
mortgage  is  lifted.  I  am  sure  he  would  be 
pleased  with  me  this  hour,  —  and  indeed  I  am 
very  well  pleased  with  myself.  There  is  none 
can  say  but  I  have  been  a  good  holder  of  Ed 
derloch  and  Otterdale.  Not  one  !  " 


1 6  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  A/c NEIL. 

His  self-complacent  reflections  were  cut  short 
by  the  entrance  of  his  eldest  daughter,  Helen ; 
and  he  dropped  the  curtains  together,  and 
turned  his  face  toward  her.  In  that  moment 
something  finer  came  into  it;  the  firm,  square 
lower  part  broke  up  into  lines  that  almost  sug 
gested  smiles,  and  the  eyes  glinted  kindly  at 
her. 

"  Helen,  my  bird !  I  almost  missed  you, 
Helen.  If  I  had  not  had  a  few  very  grave 
thoughts  for  company,  I  should  have  been 
seeking  you  ere  this.  What  is  that  paper  in 
your  hand?  " 

"  It  is  a  letter  from  Colin,  I  also  have  had 
one." 

"  Whatever  news  has  the  lad  to  need  two 
letters  at  one  post?" 

"  Only  good  news,  father." 

She  laid  her  head  against  his  shoulder  with 
a  little  caressing  motion  no  other  living  creature 
would  have  ventured  upon  with  McNeil;  but 
to  him  his  daughter  Helen  was  a  being  apart 
from  common  humanity.  Not  even  his  young 
est  child,  the  beautiful  Grizelda,  had  half  the 
power  over  him ;  for  Grizelda  touched  only  his 
fatherly  instincts,  while  Helen  appealed  also  to 


THE  FAMILY  OF  McNEIL.  17 

everything  that  was  noblest  and.  sweetest  in  his 
nature.  In  Helen's  presence  he  was  his  best 
self.  She  generally  managed  to  leave  him  on 
good  terms  with  his  conscience,  and  nothing  is 
more  certain  than  that  the  average  man  and 
woman  love  those  best  who  insensibly  carry 
them  into  the  finest  atmosphere  their  souls 
can  breathe. 

"  And  what  is  it  about  Colin,  my  dearie?  " 

"  He  has  written  a  very  fine  paper  in  one  of 
the  great  reviews,  and  every  one  is  praising  what 
he  says.  I  do  not  understand  it,  but  then  it 
must  be  true,  because  he  proves  it  all  by  such 
clever  calculations." 

"  And  if  a  man  can  prove  his  words  by 
figures,  Helen,  he  is  apt  to  be  right.  There 
are  no  flights  and  fancies  about  them.  You 
can  always  tell  what  you  are  doing,  with  figures, 
Helen.  I  don't  trust  much  else." 

"  You  never  do  yourself  justice,  father.  You 
have  something  in  your  soul  far  above  such 
mechanical  things  as  figures.  At  the  exercise, 
last  night,  I  shall  never  forget  how  your  face 
glowed  when  you  read  that  wonderful  descrip 
tion  of  the  rainbow :  '  It  compasseth  the  heaven 
about  with  a  glorious  circle ;  and  the  hands  of 


1 8  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEJL. 

the  Most  High  have  bended  it.'  Father,  your 
tone  and  action  made  it  so  real  to  me  that  I 
was  constrained  to  veil  my  eyes  in  adoration." 

"  My  dear,  I  trust  I  did  feel  the  sublimity  of 
that  godlike  act,"  and  he  looked  tenderly  down 
at  the  fair  face  bright  with  that  invisible  light 
which  comes  only  from  within. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  and  then  Helen 
said  softly,  — 

"  Colin  is  coming  straight  home.  He  will 
be  here  by  the  afternoon  packet  to-morrow; 
and  he  is  bringing  a  stranger  with  him.  Shall 
I  have  the  best  guest-room  made  ready  for 
him?" 

"Whom  for?" 

"  He  is  an  English  gentleman  from  London, 
—  a  very  good  man,  Colin  says." 

"  Humph  !  Would  you  put  an  Englishman 
in  the  room  where  a  Stuart  has  slept?  I  '11  not 
hear  tell  of  it.  I  am  not  the  man  to  lift  a 
quarrel  my  fathers  dropped,  but  I  '11  not  have 
any  English  body  in  the  Stuart's  room.  It 's 
not  likely,  Helen.  What  is  the  man's- name?  " 

"  Mr.  George  Selwyn."  f 

"Selwyn!  There's  no  Scotch  Selwyns  that 
ever  I  heard  tell  of.  He  will  be  Saxon  alto- 


yf ,  /v/  r/r^  FAMILY  OF  MCNEIL.  19 

JUT 

gether,  no    doubt.     Put  him  in  the  east  room. 

I  wonder  whatever  makes  our  Colin  take  up 
with  strange  men." 

"  From  what  Colin  says,  he  is  good  and  he 
is  a  gentleman.  The  McNeil  is  not  used  to 
ask  his  guest  'Whose  son  art  thou?'1 

"  Wait  a  wee,  Helen.  WThen  the  McNeil  has 
two  bonnie  daughters,  it  is  only  right  for  him 
to  ask  questions  he  would  not  ask  if  he  had 
not  such  a  charge;  and  that  minds  me  of  Gri- 
zelda.  Where  is  she?  I  have  not  seen  her 
or  heard  her  or  heard  tell  of  her  since  the  noon 
hour." 

"  She  was  practising  all  the  morning." 

"  I  know  that  right  well.  I  have  surely 
bought  a  piano-forte  to  my  own  trouble  and 
confusion;  for  I  could  not  make  my  counts  up 
for  it." 

"But,  then,  in  the  evening,  father!  What 
sweet  songs  Zelda  sings,  and  how  you  do 
enjoy  them." 

"  I  am  not  denying  it.  Where  was  she  since 
the  noon  hour?  " 

"  She  went  riding,  and  she  met  Lord  Max 
well,  and  they  took  the  Bruff  road,  and  got  out 
of  the  way.  She  came  home  a  bit  tired ;  but 


2O  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McKEIL. 

she  is  well  rested  now,  and  supper  will  be  ready 
very  soon,  and  you  ought  to  be  with  us  in  the 
parlour,  father,  —  it  is  lonely  without  you." 

"  Helen,  there  is  no  use  in  trying  to  stay  the 
words  that  be  to  come.  Listen  to  them.  You 
are  to  keep  better  ward  over  your  sister.  I  like 
not  Maxwell.  He  is  but  a  stranger  and  an 
interloper  here.  Let  him  bide  in  Galloway, 
where  he  comes  from." 

"  Father,  have  you  heard  anything  wrong  of 
Lord  Maxwell  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Have  you  seen  anything  wrong?" 

"  No." 

"  Why,  then,  do  you  think  wrong  of  him?  " 

"  Helen,  there  are  things  we  know  that  we 
cannot  comprehend,  just  as  there  are  things 
appointed  for  us  that  are  not  explained  to  us. 
The  first  hour  that  I  saw  Maxwell,  I  judged 
him  rightly;  and  for  that  reason  he  dislikes 
me.  I  also  do  not  like  him.  Now,  dearie,  I 
will  go  with  you,  and  we  will  have  a  bit  of 
supper  and  a  song." 

They  went  silently  through  the  chill  stone 
passages,  and  came  suddenly  into  a  parlour 
filled  with  light  and  comfort.  A  bright  fire 


THE  FAMILY  OF  McXEIL.  21 

was  on  the  hearth,  and  before  it,  in  a  low 
sewing-chair,  sat  Grizelda  McNeil.  Her  fine 
face  was  veiled  in  a  maze  of  tender  thought; 
her  eyes  misty  with  the  languorous  melancholy 
of  hidden  love.  It  was  some  moments  before 
she  could  summon  her  soul  from  its  intensely 
personal  revery  to  the  simple  relative  duties 
and  courtesies  the  hour  demanded;  but  her 
manner  was  naturally  so  reticent  and  dignified 
that  neither  her  father  nor  sister  noticed  the 
effort.  She  had  an  exquisite  face,  and  a  tall 
and  very  slender  form,  and  an  easy,  stately 
carriage  that  had  in  it  something  maidenly, 
exclusive,  impossible  to  be  described. 

Usually,  at  this  hour,  she  unbent  her  whole 
nature  to  her  father  and  sister.  She  made  it 
pass  to  a  little  flurry  of  song  and  gay  conver 
sation.  She  told  in  it  all  the  news  she  had 
gathered  in  the  fishing  village,  or  up  among 
the  shepherds  on  the  mountains.  She  ex 
hibited  the  sketches  she  had  made,  —  the  bits 
of  wood  and  moor  and  sea,  the  solitary  fisher 
man,  the  groups  of  round-eyed,  round-faced 
children.  She  had  a  great  genius  for  such 
sketching,  and  McNeil  was  rather  proud  of 
her  ability.  Being  a  woman,  he  thought  she 


22  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  MCNEIL. 

had  a  right  to  pass  the  hours  in  what  he  con 
sidered,  after  all,  a  very  useless  kind  of  fashion ; 
for  pretty,  purposeless  work  was,  at  that  day, 
the  special  vocation  of  wealthy  women. 

But  this  night,  Grizelda  seemed  unable  to 
mix  her  personality  with  that  of  others.  She 
was  singularly  silent,  and  when  asked  to  sing, 
did  so  with  an  indifference  which  made  McNeil 
say  fretfully,  — 

"  You  are  giving  good  music  poor  justice, 
Grizelda.  You  must  have  been  in  ill  company, 
for  it  has  taken  the  song  out  of  your  heart. 
Helen,  read  me  the  letter  Colin  sent  you; 
maybe  there  will  be  a  bit  of  kindness  and 
pleasantness  in  it." 

Colin's  letter,  however,  was  no  more  satis 
factory  than  Grizelda's  music  had  been.  It 
was  full  of  the  Rev.  George  Selwyn;  and  Mc 
Neil  found  himself  anticipating  annoyance  and 
disappointment  from  the  visit.  In  the  first 
place,  he  had  a  new  business  plan  to  carry 
out,  and  he  had  been  waiting  nearly  a  year 
for  the  termination  of  Colin's  law  studies.  He 
needed  his  co-operation,  and  he  was  impatient 
of  any  visitor  who  would  probably  prolong  the 
days  of  unprofitable  inactivity. 


THE  FAMILY  OF  Me  NEIL,  23 

In  the  second  place,  he  was  intensely  jealous 
of  Helen ;  and  every  young  man,  in  his  eyes, 
was  a  probable  suitor.  For  a  few  years,  he 
wished  to  retain  her  by  his  own  side  and  at 
his  own  hearth ;  and  when  the  question  of  her 
marriage  had  to  be  faced,  he  had  quite  deter 
mined  to  give  her  to  his  nephew  and  elected 
heir,  Colin  McNeil.  He  had  adopted  the  young 
man  at  his  brother's  death;  and  though  the 
estate  was  not  entailed,  it  was  a  tacitly  under 
stood  thing  that  Colin  would  be  the  future 
McNeil.  And  a  decided  part  of  this  scheme, 
in  the  laird's  eyes,  was  the  marriage  of  the 
heir  to  his  own  eldest  daughter.  There  seemed 
such  an  element  of  justness  and  fitness  in  this 
arrangement,  it  was  so  clear  to  his  own  mind, 
that  he  never  anticipated  opposition  or  dissent 
in  the  matter;  so  he  could  not  think  with  pa 
tience  or  pleasure  of  any  element  coming  into 
McNeil  Castle  which  might  be  a  disturbing  one 
to  plans  so  well  considered  and  satisfactory. 

But  with  the  morning  light,  he  faced  the 
circumstances  more  hopefully.  "  There  are 
mostly  two  good  sides  to  one  bad  one,"  he 
thought.  "  It  will  be  an  ill  man  that  is  not 
better  than  Maxwell.  Grizelda  thinks  she  is 


24  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

in  love  with  him,  because  he  has  the  ground 
to  himself  in  a  manner;  and  if  this  stranger 
can  only  make  her  waver,  there  will  be  time 
gained :  and  with  time  on  his  side,  a  man  may 
hope  for  all  things.  And  it  is  not  likely  Helen 
will  take  a  thought  anent  him.  Her  heart  is 
with  her  own  people  ;  and  if  she  knows  any 
thing  well,  she  knows  that  Colin  McNeil  and 
Helen  McNeil  are  sorted  out  for  each  other. 
She  never  has  gone  contrary  to  my  wish  ;  it 's 
no  likely  she  will  begin  wrong-doing  with  an 
English  stranger." 

So,  confiding  in  his  own  wishes  and  opinions, 
he  went  in  high  spirits  to  meet  his  nephew  and 
his  guest.  He  had  not  seen  Colin  for  three 
years,  and  the  young  man  was  an  object  very 
near  to  his  heart,  —  his  nephew,  his  intended  son- 
in-law,  and  the  inheritor  of  lands  and  honours 
stretching  backward  into  the  mists  of  Ossianic 
traditions,  and  forward  into  the  hopes  and  am 
bitions  of  an  era  whose  possibilities  were  almost 
too  large  to  dream  about. 

As  the  packet  approached  the  small  pier,  he 
was  sensible  of  some  anxiety  regarding  the 
young  man's  personal  appearance.  The  Mc 
Neil's  were  a  handsoms  race;  he  hoped  that 


THE  FAMIL  Y  OF  McNEIL.  2  5 

Colin  would  be  physically  worthy  of  his  an 
cestors.  And  he  drew  a  long  sigh  of  gratifica 
tion  as  the  young  man,  with  outstretched  hands, 
leaped  from  the  boat  to  meet  him;  for  the 
future  McNeil  was  certainly  a  proper  Highland 
gentleman, — tall  and  swarthy,  with  the  glowing 
eyes  and  rather  melancholy  air  of  the  true 
Celt. 

His  companion,  the  Rev.  George  Selwyn, 
was  singularly  unlike  him.  The  McNeil  had 
judged  rightly;  he  was  a  pure  Saxon,  and  he 
showed  it  in  his  fresh  complexion,  his  fearless, 
wide-open,  gray  eyes,  and  his  bright  brown 
hair.  But  as  it  was  only  physically  that  Mc 
Neil  looked  at  him,  he  was  not  at  all  conscious 
that  there  was  something  in  George  Selwyn 
which  struck  a  deeper  and  wider  sympathy 
than  the  sympathy  of  race,  —  a  heart  beating 
for  all  humanity. 

"There  is  no  danger  with  the  like  of  him," 
was  McNeil's  mental  comment  as  he  glanced 
with  satisfaction  at  the  young  clergyman's  short 
spare  figure  and  well-defined,  educated  face. 
"  I  need  not  fear  for  Helen.  Colin  is  six  inches 
taller,  and  every  way  a  far  prettier  man." 


CHAPTER   II. 
A  DAY  OF  EARTH'S  UNREST. 

His  doctrines  from  the  streets  he  brings, 

From  ploughman's  lowly  cot, 
From  proud  palatial  halls  of  kings, 

From  dens  where  sinners  rot 
In  darkness  and  disease.     He  hath 

The  wise  man's  art  to  borrow 
From  other's  life  ;  he  treads  the  path 

Of  each  man's  joy  and  sorrow. 

Dr.  BI.ACKIE. 

Sing  of  the  nature  of  women,  and  then  the  song  shall  surely 
be  full  of  variety,  old  crotchets,  and  most  sweet  closes. 

/I  CNEIL  had  anticipated  no  interference  of 
any  kind  from  a  man  of  such  insignifi 
cant  presence  as  George  Selvvyn ;  but  in  three 
weeks  his  influence  had  become  remarkably 
dominant.  When  he  first  arrived,  the  laird, 
out  of  respect  for  his  office,  had  delegated  to 
him  the  conduct  of  the  family  worship.  His 
own  "  exercises  "  had  often  been  slipped  away 
from,  excuses  had  been  frequent,  absentees 
usual ;  but  the  whole  household  came  to  listen 


A   DAY  OF  EARTH'S  UNREST.  ZJ 

to  Selwyn  with  an  eagerness  which  was  very 
irritating  to  McNeil. 

And  both  the  laird  and  his  servants  heard 
some  startling  truths ;  for  the  Gospel  of  Christ, 
interpreted  as  the  gospel  of  humanity,  bringing 
forth  free  schools,  free  hospitals,  food  for  the 
hungry,  clothes  for  the  naked,  homes  for  the 
homeless,  helps  of  all  kinds,  as  part  of  every 
church  organization,  was  in  that  day  strange 
doctrine.  It  was  struggling  for  a  hold  in  the 
great  cities ;  country  parishes  had  never  heard 
of  it. 

McNeil  listened  with  indignation.  He  thought 
it  very  ungentlemanly  of  Selwyn  to  preach  at 
him  in  his  own  house,  and  he  by  no  means 
approved  of  the  responsibilities  which  the  young 
preacher  assigned  to  men  of  wealth  and  author 
ity.  A  religion  of  intellectual  faith,  which  had 
certain  well-recognized  claims  on  his  pocket, 
he  was  willing  to  support,  and  if  need  were 
to  defend ;  but  one  which  made  him  on  every 
hand  his  brother's  keeper,  —  that  was  a  different 
thing;  he  considered  it  a  dangerously  democratic 
theology. 

"  And  I  '11  have  no  socialism  in  my  religion 
any  more  than  I  '11  have  it  in  my  politics, 


28  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OP  McNETL. 

Colin,"  he  said  one  morning  angrily.  "If  this 
friend  of  yours  belongs  to  what  they  call  the 
Church  of  England,  I  am  more  set  up  than 
ever  with  the  Kirk  of  Scotland,  God  bless 
her!" 

"  The  same  ideas  are  spreading  in  the  Kirk 
of  Scotland,  uncle.  When  I  was  in  Edinburgh, 
I  went  with  Selwyn  to  some  ragged  schools 
just  founded  by  our  own  great  Dr.  Guthrie. 
Selwyn  was  talking  to  me  of  what  might  be 
done  among  these  poor  kinsmen  of  ours." 

"  No  doubt;  but  I  '11  no  need  Mr.  Selwyn  to 
help  me  to  order  my  affairs.  He  may  have  a 
big  parish  in  London,  but  the  McNeils  are  not 
in  his  congregation.  You  can  tell  him,  Colin, 
that  I  am  a  king  and  bishop  within  my  own 
bounds." 

He  reached  down  his  bonnet  as  he  spoke, 
and  without  waiting  for  Colin's  answer,  walked 
rapidly  to  the  beach.  The  salt  coolness  of  the 
air,  the  fresh  sea-weeds  glistening  with  olive 
fronds  and  black  sea-grapes,  the  sand-snipes 
piping  to  one  another  across  the  sands,  the 
peregrines  screaming  at  and  scolding  him  as 
they  rose  from  their  rock,  —  all  these  things 
comforted  him  in  their  way.  They  were  fa- 


A   DAY  OF  EARTH'S   UNREST.  29 

miliar ;  there  was  no  element  of  change  about 
them;  they  seemed  to  assure  him  that,  in  his 
world  at  least,  as  things  had  been,  so  they  would 
continue  to  be. 

But  the  morning  was  destined  to  be  one  of 
annoyance  to  him.  On  his  return  homeward 
he  met  Dr.  Brodick.  The  minister  had  seen 
him  coming,  and  he  stood  waiting  his  approach 
on  the  wet  sands.  He  had  lifted  his  hat  to 
catch  the  cool  breeze,  and  his  tall,  sombre 
figure  imparted  to  the  majesty  of  Nature  the 
nobler  majesty  of  humanity.  The  wide  ex 
panse  of  beach  looked  grander  for  the  man 
standing  on  it. 

"  Well  met,  Doctor.  Are  you  going  to  the 
castle?  " 

"  Even  so.  I  am  for  an  hour's  talk  with  that 
fine  young  English  minister  you  have  staying 
at  with  you." 

"  Brodick,  let  me  tell  you  that  you  have  been 
too  much  with  him  lately.  His  sermons  on  the 
beach  the  two  last  Sabbath  nights  havena  given 
satisfaction.  There  is  a  kind  of  papistical  sen 
sation  in  preaching  outside  of  the  kirk." 

"  But,  Laird,  the  kirk  would  not  hold  the  con 
gregation  ;  and  as  for  preaching  out  of  doors, 


30  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  Me  NEIL. 

the  Great  Preacher  aye  did  it.  You  will  surely 
not  be  accusing  Him  of  sensation  and  papacy." 

"  Things  were  fit  for  Him  that  are  not  to  be 
thought  of  with  the  life  of  George  Schvyn. 
The  kirk  is  the  place  for  men  to  preach.  Why, 
Doctor,  he  is  an  Episcopal  and  an  Arminian  of 
the  worst  kind.  I  'm  more  than  astonished  at 
you  listening  to  him  at  all." 

"  Tuts,  Laird !  Arminiajiism  isna  a  conta 
gious  disease.  I  '11  no  more  take  Arminianism 
from  George  Selwyn  than  I  '11  take  toryism  and 
Jacobitism  from  Laird  Archibald  McNeil.  My 
theology  and  my  politics,  both  of  them,  are  far 
beyond  inoculation." 

"  Have  you  gotten  up  an  argument  with  him, 
Brodick?  I  'd  like  fine  to  hear  you  two  at  it." 

"  No,  no ;  Schvyn  is  not  inclined  to  argue. 
He  makes  downright  assertions,  and  every  one 
of  them  hits  my  conscience  like  a  sledge-ham 
mer.  He  said  that  to  me  last  night,  as  we 
walked  these  sands  together,  that  has  not  let 
me  sleep  a  blink." 

"  He  is  a  very  disagreeable  young  man. 
What  could  he  say  to  you?  You  have  aye 
done  your  duty." 

"  I   thought  so  once,   McNeil.     I  taught  the 


A   DAY  OF  EARTH'S   UNREST.  31 

bairns  their  catechism ;  I  looked  well  after  the 
spiritual  life  of  both  old  and  young;  I  have  hud 
a  word  in  season  for  all.  But  this  I  ought  to 
have  done,  and  not  left  the  other  undone." 

"  You  are  talking  foolishness,  Brodick ;  and 
that  is  a  thing  not  usual  with  you." 

"  Not  oftener  than  with  other  folk.  But,  Laird, 
I  feel  that  there  must  be  a  change.  I  have 
gotten  my  orders,  and  I  am  going  to  obey 
them.  You  may  be  very  certain  of  that." 

"  I  never  thought  that  I  should  live  to  see 
Doctor  Brodick  taking  orders  from  a  disciple 
of  Arminius  —  and  an  Englishman,  forbye." 

"  I  '11  take  my  orders,  McNeil,  from  any  mes 
senger  my  Master  chooses  to  send  them  by; 
and  I  '11  do  His  messenger  justice.  He  laid 
down  no  law  to  me.  He  only  spoke  of  the  duty 
laid  on  his  conscience;  but  my  conscience  said 
amen  to  his.  That  is  all  about  it.  There  have 
been  great  questioning  and  seeking  lately  among 
the  men  at  Oxford ;  and  though  I  don't  agree 
with  them  in  all  things,  I  can  see  that  they  have 
gotten  a  kind  of  revelation." 

"  Humph !  It  is  aye  the  young  men  that 
want  to  turn  the  world  upside  down.  Nothing 
as  it  is  suits  them." 


32  THE  HOUSEHOLD   01-   VcNEIL. 

"  Laird,  it  is  like  a  new  epiphany.  The  hun 
gry  are  fed,  the  naked  clothed,  the  prisoners 
comforted,  the  poor  wee  bairns  gathered  into 
homes  and  schools.  It  is  the  gospel  with  bread 
and  meat  and  shelter  and  schooling  in  its  hands. 
And  while  he  was  telling  me  about  these  things, 
my  ain  heart  burned.  I  bethought  me  of  all 
that  could  be  done  right  here  in  Eddcrloch." 

The  laird  had  listened  thus  far  in  speechless 
indignation.  He  now  stood  still,  and  said,  "  I  '11 
have  you  to  understand,  Doctor  Brodick,  that  I 
am  laird  of  Edderloch  and  Otterdale,  and  that 
I  will  have  no  new-fangled  ways  or  doctrines 
taught  in  either  of  my  clachans." 

"  If  you  are  a  laird,  I  am  a  dominie.  You 
know  me  well  enough,  McNeil,  to  be  sure  if 
this  thing  is  a  matter  of  conscience  with  me,  no 
laird  can  stop  me.  I  would  snap  my  fingers 
in  the  face  of  any  one  who  said  to  me,  'Stop,' 
when  my  conscience  said  to  me, '  Go  on ;  '  "  and 
the  doctor  accompanied  the  threat  with  that 
sharp,  resonant  fillip  of  the  fingers  which  is  a 
Scotchman's  natural  expression  of  intense  ex 
citement  of  any  kind. 

"  Brodick,  you  are  in  a  temper.  You  will  be 
sorry  for  it  ere  long.  You  have  given  way 


A   DAY  OF  EARTH'S   UNREST.  33 

more    than    I    have.      You    ken    how   you    feel 
about  it." 

"  I  feel  ashamed,  Laird.  You  '11  no  lay  the 
blame  to  my  office,  but  to  Dugald  Brodick 
himself.  There  is  a  deal  of  Dugald  Brodick 
in  me  yet;  and  whiles  he  is  too  much  for 
Dominie  Brodick  to  manage." 

They  were  at  the  door  by  this  time,  and  the 
laird  said,  "  Come  in,  Doctor." 

'k  No ;  I  '11  go  home  now,  and  give  myself  a 
talking  to ;  forbye,  I  see  Mr.  Selwyn  is  in  the 
garden  with  Helen,  and  I  '11  perhaps  spoil  a 
better  talk." 

The  words  struck  McNeil  with  a  singular 
force.  His  face  flushed  angrily  as  he  turned  it 
toward  the  shady  walk  which  traversed  the  gar 
den,  and  then  meandered  through  the  little  pine 
wood  bordering  the  sweet  place,  and  into  which, 
indeed,  the  garden  strayed.  Acting  upon  the 
impulse  of  the  moment,  he  walked  rapidly 
toward  them. 

"  Helen,  you  are  needed  in  the  house,"  he 
said  abruptly;  and  then,  turning  to  Selwyn, 
asked,  "  Will  you  walk  a  while  with  me  in  the 
wood,  Mr.  Selwyn?" 

The  young   man   pleasantly  complied.      He 
3 


34  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

was  quite  unconscious  of  anger  in  the  tone  of 
McNeil's  request.  And  for  a  few  yards  neither 
spoke;  then  the  laird,  with  an  irritable  glance 
at  his  placid  companion,  said, — 

"  Mr.  Selwyn,  fore-speaking  sometimes  saves 
after-speaking.  I  may  as  well  tell  you  that  my 
daughter  Helen  is  intended  for  the  wife  of  my 
nephew  Colin.  If  you  are  thinking  of  wiving 
in  my  house  —  " 

"Laird,  I  thank  you  for  your  warning;  but 
I  have  no  thought  of  marrying  any  one.  Helen 
McNeil  is  a  pearl  among  women,  but  I  should 
not  dare  ask  her  to  be  my  wife.  Even  if  I  de 
sired  such  a  great  honour,  she  would  not  be 
able  to  endure  the  labour  and  the  surroundings 
to  which  I  am  pledged  heart  and  soul.  When 
I  took  a  curacy  in  the  East-end  of  London,  I 
counted  all  the  cost;  and  not  for  the  fairest  of 
the  daughters  of  men  could  I  desert  the  work 
to  which  I  have  solemnly  pledged  myself." 

McNeil  was  intensely  mortified.  He  had 
simply  put  it  in  the  power  of  a  poor  preacher, 
and  an  Englishman,  to  refuse  his  daughter, — 
his  Helen,  whom  he  secretly  regarded  as  a  being 
too  good  for  any  man's  love  or  care  but  his 
own.  It  did  not  help  to  conciliate  him  that 


A   DAY  OF  EARTH'S   UNREST.  35 

Selwyn  passed  over  the  conversation  as  if  it 
had  been  the  most  unimportant  of  episodes. 
And  McNeil  was  one  of  those  men  who,  while 
they  are  capable  of  overlooking  great  wrongs, 
are  made  implacable  enemies  by  a  slight  insult. 
For  the  dagger's  thrust  may  be  forgiven,  but 
the  slap  in  the  face,  never!  The  pain  of  the 
one  is  tolerable :  the  humiliation  of  the  other 
intolerable.  And  Selwyn's  calm  disclaimer  had 
been  felt  by  McNeil  to  be  an  affront  of  the 
most  insufferable  kind. 

The  great  pride  of  his  character  saved  him 
from  the  petty  retaliation  of  impertinence;  he 
listened  with  a  semblance  of  perfect  courtesy  to 
Selwyn  as  he  proceeded  to  describe  the  abject 
poverty  and  the  degradation  of  the  people 
among  whom  he  had  elected  to  live.  He  was 
even  just  enough  to  acknowledge  to  himself 
that  the  young  man  was  a  sincere  enthusiast, 
an  apostle  filled  with  his  own  evangel. 

Yet  never  in  his  whole  life  had  he  spent  a 
more  humiliating  and  disagreeable  half-hour, 
and  he  was  exceedingly  grateful  when  Colin 
pushed  aside  the  tall  brackens,  and  leaping  the 
stone  wall  of  the  plantation,  joined  them.  And 
the  young  man's  dark,  vivid  beauty,  his  supple, 


36  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

graceful  figure,  his  world-like  words  and  manner 
made  him,  in  the  laird's  eyes,  a  delightful  con 
trast  to  the  pale,  spiritual  visionary  who  had  so 
deeply  mortified  him. 

He  left  Colin  and  Selwyn  together,  and  re 
turned  home  in  a  hurry  of  mingled  annoyance 
and  irritability.  The  men  in  the  garden  took 
offence  because  he  passed  them  without  a  word ; 
the  men  in  the  courtyard,  because  he  spoke  to 
them  in  tones  of  most  unaccustomed  and  un 
deserved  anger.  He  went  to  his  own  parlour, 
and  locked  himself  in.  His  coat  and  necktie 
oppressed  him ;  he  threw  them  off  with  a  pas 
sionate  exclamation  of  chagrin.  For  a  few 
minutes  he  permitted  himself  a  full  and  ade 
quate  expression  of  the  storm  raging  within 
him. 

Ah !  the  worst  of  all  wounds  are  those  which 
our  own  hands  inflict  Though  the  sun  was 
shining  brightly,  the  laird  sat  in  his  own  shadow ; 
and  the  future  seemed  to  him  full  of  those  fear 
some  phantoms  that  haunt  darkness  of  any  kind. 
He  remembered  now  how  much  Helen  and 
Selwyn  had  been  together,  how  often  he  had 
seen  them  so  eager  in  conversation  that  their 
very  walk  was  but  a  shadow  of  movement, 


A  DAY  OF  EARTH'S   UNREST.  37 

coming  often  to  a  positive  standstill.  Was  it 
credible  they  were  only  discussing  the  needs  of 
poverty  and  ignorance,  and  the  best  methods 
of  relieving  them?  He  called  himself  the  hard 
est  of  all  names  for  his  credulity,  for  his  care 
lessness,  for  his  wrong  estimate  of  his  daughter's 
character. 

"  I  might  have  known  Helen  better!  I  might 
have  been  sure  that  Colin,  with  all  his  beauty 
and  his  full  height,  would  be  nowhere  beside 
that  little  saint  fighting  the  Devil  and  all  his 
works.  Helen  is  n't  like  other  women,  and 
I  should  have  had  more  sense  than  even  her 
with  them.  But  I  '11  tell  her  what  he  said.  If 
she  has  any  hopes  of  martyrdom  with  George 
S^lwyn,  I  '11  let  her  ken  that  he  does  not  need 
her  company.  It 's  a  brutal  thing  to  do ;  but 
there 's  hurts  for  which  the  knife  is  the  only 
kindness." 

Having  partially  allayed  this  annoyance  by 
deciding  how  it  was  to  be  conquered,  he  began 
to  trouble  himself  about  Grizelda.  His  antipa 
thy  to  Lord  Maxwell  was  a  sincere  one,  none 
the  less  vigorous  in  its  nature  because  there 
was  no  apparent  reason  for  it.  And  he  felt 
certain  that  Grizelda  liked  him ;  equally  certain 


38  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  MCNEIL. 

that  Grizelda's  reputed  wealth  was  the  object 
of  Maxwell's  desires.  He  would  not  permit 
himself  to  suppose  that  Maxwell  was  under  the 
influence  of  a  sincere  affection. 

"  And  Grizelda  is  as  proud  and  self-willed  as 
her  mother  was,"  he  muttered ;  "  what  she 
wants  she  '11  take  and  have,  if  it  is  within  the 
bound  of  mortal  capacity  to  win  at  it.  Preserve 
me !  To  be  between  two  daughters  is  to  be 
between  two  fires.  I  do  not  feel  as  if  it  was 
right  for  the  Almighty  to  set  a  man  more  than 
one  woman  at  a  time  to  guide.  I  have  had 
three,"  he  added,  mournfully;  "my  wife  Griz 
elda —  Heaven  give  her  rest! — and  the  two 
girls  she  left  in  her  place.  Dear  me !  I  am 
afraid  they  have  been  given  for  my  heartache." 

With  two  such  worries  on  hand,  a  man  may 
torment  himself  indefinitely;  and  in  suspicions 
and  suppositions,  all  alike  full  of  disappoint 
ment  and  sorrow,  the  laird  let  the  whole  after 
noon  pass  away.  Twice  some  one  had  gently 
tried  the  door,  and  finding  it  locked,  gone 
away.  He  knew  it  was  Helen.  He  knew  that 
she  would  be  uneasy  about  his  fasting  and  his 
long  seclusion;  but  it  was  not  until  the  sun 
began  to  wester  that  he  felt  any  inclination,  or 


A   DAY  OF  EARTH'S  UNREST.  39 

indeed  any  ability,  to  face  the  domestic  duties 
that  belonged  to  him. 

And  after  all  it  was  the  physical  sensation 
of  hunger  that  first  brought  his  rebellious  soul 
to  listen  to  reason.  The  tinkling  of  the  glass 
and  china  was  like  a  soothing  voice  to  him. 
"  I  '11  have  to  go  to  the  dinner-table,"  he 
thought;  and  the  thought  was  not  now  unpleas 
ant.  He  remembered  the  lordly  salmon  that 
had  been  brought  from  the  loch  that  morning, 
and  the  saddle  of  mutton  and  the  sweetmeats, 
and  his  after-dinner  tranquillizer,  —  the  hot  glass 
of  fine  Campbeltown,  with  the  slow  pipe  of 
Virginia  tobacco. 

These  were  real  and  tangible  pleasures.  He 
was  now  prepared  to  let  them  banish  the  un 
pleasant  uncertainties  which  had  been  employ 
ing  him.  And  just  at  that  moment  the  door 
handle  moved  softly  again,  and  he  hastened  to 
turn  the  lock  and  give  the  delayed  words  of 
permission,  "  Come  in." 

No  sweeter  form  could  have  answered  the 
words.  Strictly  speaking,  Helen  was  not  as 
beautiful  as  her  sister  Grizelda;  but  her  face 
was  fair  and  pleasing,  and  luminous  with  a  clear 
and  limpid  soul  such  as  God  loves.  Her  dress 


4O  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

of  rich  silk  was  quite  destitute  of  the  usual 
fla-fla  of  an  evening  toilet ;  her  manner  full  of 
simplicity  and  a  natural  candour.  Hope  and 
happiness  came  back  to  McNeil's  heart  as  soon 
as  he  looked  at  her;  and  in  the  first  mo 
ment  he  felt  as  if  it  would  be  simply  impossi 
ble  and  inexcusable  to  annoy  her  with  his 
own  annoyance. 

But  self-seeking,  and  not  self-sacrifice,  is  the 
natural  bent  of  man.  When  Helen's  hand  was 
in  his,  when  he  heard  her  say,  "  The  day  has 
been  so  dreary  without  you,  father;  and  I 
missed  you  so  much  at  the  lunch-table;  and, 
dear,  you  look  as  if  you  were  in  trouble  ; "  he 
could  not  resist  the  craving  for  her  sympathy. 

"  I  made  a  big  blunder,  Helen;  and  because 
it  was  about  you,  my  bird,  I  have  had  a  double 
portion  of  shame  anent  it." 

Then  he  repeated  the  conversation  which  had 
taken  place  between  Selwyn  and  himself;  per 
haps  unconsciously  softening  his  own  warning 
and  strengthening  the  positiveness  of  Selvvyn's 
declaration, 

No  mortal  could  know  how  bitterly  Helen 
felt  the  position  in  which  she  had  been  placed. 
In  that  moment  she  realized,  for  the  first  time, 


A   DAY  OF  EARTH'S   UNREST.  41 

that  Selvvyn  had  been  something  more  to  her 
than  a  passing  visitor.  She  had  not  certainly 
admitted  the  thought  of  love  in  her  heart,  but 
she  had  idealized  the  man ;  and  the  conditions  of 
love  were  all  present.  A  word,  a  sigh,  a  glance 
might  at  any  moment  have  kindled  a  flame, 
holy  and  inextinguishable,  in  her  pure  heart. 
It  was  as  if  the  door  into  some  grand  temple 
had  been  set  open,  and  then,  while  her  foot 
was  on  the  threshold,  suddenly  closed  in  her 
face.  Many  words  and  incidents  flashed  across 
her  memory  which,  once  so  pleasant,  now 
made  her  cheeks  burn,  and  her  heart  turned 
sick  with  shame. 

But  to  blame  her  father  would  do  no  good, 
and  she  hastened  to  say  the  words  which  at  the 
moment  seemed  most  likely  to  prevent  any 
suspicion  of  her  own  heart-trouble. 

"Mr.  Selwyn  cares  not  for  any  woman, 
father;  and  I  think,  besides,  Colin  will  have  told 
him  that  —  that  I  am  —  " 

"  To  be  Colin's  wife,  surely,  Helen,  in  a  few 
years,  my  dear.  There  is  no  hurry.  Colin 
must  travel  a  year  or  two  first;  see  the  world. 
All  young  men  ought  to ;  and  he  knows  I  want 
no  forwardness  in  this  matter.  There  is  no 


42.  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  MCNEIL. 

sense  in  forcing  life  on.  A  man  should  take 
things  in  their  order,  —  his  education,  then  his 
profession,  syne,  when  he  is  wearied  himself 
with  strange  countries  and  strange  people,  his 
ain  folk,  and  his  ain  home.  I  am  in  no  hurry 
to  give  anybody  a  share  of  your  love,  Helen." 

What  could  Helen  do  but  clasp  his  hand 
tightly,  and  with  a  kiss,  give  him  once  more  the 
assurance  of  her  own  faithfulness,  and  of  her 
contentment  in  his  will. 

But  though  the  laird  was  partially  restored  to 
himself,  the  evening  was  not  by  any  means  con 
cordant.  Every  one  was  conscious  of  an  under 
tone  that  was  not  harmonious ;  and  Helen  was 
almost  troubled  by  a  tenderness  and  attention 
in  Colin's  manner  much  more  marked  than 
usual.  She  wondered  if  her  father  had  also 
spoken  to  Colin.  She  felt  resentful  of  such 
open  discussion  of  herself,  and  the  unexpressed 
feeling  imparted  a  certain  dignity  to  her 
manner. 

But  the  change  in  Colin  had  not  originated 
with  the  laird.  Mr.  Selwyn  was  accountable 
for  it.  While  they  were  in  the  wood  together, 
he  had  thought  it  best  to  tell  Colin  of  McNeil's 
suspicion;  and  in  the  conversation  growing  out 


A  DAY  OF  EARTH'S   UNREST.  43 

of  this  confidence,  Selwyn  had  spoken  of  Helen's 
spiritual  and  personal  beauty  in  words  which 
had  aroused  all  the  latent  jealousy  of  Colin's 
nature.  He  saw  and  felt,  what  was  possibly  not 
clear  to  Selwyn,  that  the  young  preacher  was 
far  more  under  the  sweet  influence  of  Helen 
McNeil  than  he  was  aware  of;  and  while  he  was 
satisfied  that  Selwyn  had  no  thought  of  being 
unfaithful  to  his  convictions  or  his  friend,  he 
was  secretly  angry  at  the  unconscious  infidelity. 

And  so  subtle  and  unconfirmed  are  the  springs 
that  move  us  to  action,  that  Selwyn  felt  in  that 
moment  that  his  visit  was  over;  that  he  had 
got  the  call  to  go  back  to  London  and  to  work. 
He  did  not  hesitate  a  moment,  and  Colin  was  a 
little  ashamed  of  himself  because  he  found  it 
impossible  to  urge  his  friend  with  any  warmth 
or  sincerity  to  extend  his  visit.  Still  he  made 
the  attempt.  "  Stay  a  week  longer  and  I  will 
go  as  far  as  Glasgow  with  you,"  he  said. 

"  No,  Colin,  I  have  done  the  work  I  was  sent 
to  do.  The  ground  is  broken.  I  can  trust  the 
seed-time  and  harvesting  to  that  good  Doctor 
Brodick  and  to  your  cousin  Helen." 

"  Then  you  think  you  came  here  on  a  special 
mission,  Selwyn?" 


44  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  MCNEIL. 

"  I  trust  that  I  go  nowhere  with  aimless  feet. 
There  was  a  word  to  be  spoken  here,  and  God 
sent  me  to  speak  it.  The  word  has  fallen  on 
good  ground  ;  you  will  see  that.  But  to-morrow 
morning  I  must  go.  I  am  sure  it  is  right  to 
do  so." 

Colin  no  longer  opposed.  Perhaps  he  was 
even  a  little  glad.  He  had  been  impressed  by 
the  spiritual  heroism  of  this  new  band  of  evan 
gelists  ;  but  his  enthusiasm  lacked  the  strength 
of  continuity.  A  little  good  done  now  and  then, 
a  holy  Sabbath  to  savour  the  week:  that  was 
salt  enough  for  life,  as  Colin  looked  at  life.  A 
conviction  which  drives  like  rain,  to  the  very 
roots,  was  too  hard  for  him. 

And  then  he  had  suddenly  become  jealous. 
Selwyn  spoke  of  Helen  too  familiarly,  too  ad 
miringly.  He  felt  sure  of  her  sympathy.  He 
relied  upon  her  to  carry  out  the  charities  he 
had  planned ;  made  a  claim,  as  it  were,  upon 
her  life  and  remembrance.  Without  consciously 
analyzing  these  feelings,  he  was  moved  by  them  ; 
and  their  first  result  was  that  access  of  atten 
tion  and  tenderness  which  had  half  offended 
Helen. 

As   for  McNeil,  he  grandly  put  behind  him 


A   DAY  OF  EARTH'S   UNREST.  45 

all  considerations  but  the  fact  that  Selwyn  was 
his  guest.  Every  tradition,  every  inherited 
feeling,  led  him  to  set  this  duty  first  of  all;  but 
there  was  undoubtedly  an  effort  in  it,  and  the 
entrance  of  Doctor  Brodick  was  sincerely  wel 
comed.  He  speedily  claimed  Selwyn's  attention, 
and  left  to  the  laird  and  to  Colin  and  to  Helen 
the  less  trying  position  of  listeners. 

Grizelda  had  never  affected  the  slightest  in 
terest  in  Mr.  Selwyn  or  his  theories.  She  said 
that  his  enthusiasm  had  even  a  chilling  effect 
upon  her.  So  she  sat  at  the  piano,  softly  prac 
tising  with  one  hand  a  brilliant  fantasia  of  Henri 
Herz's;  but  its  sweet  crescendos  did  not  seri 
ously  command  her  attention, — the  running 
music  was  only  an  accompaniment  to  dreams 
and  hopes  of  a  far  more  personal  character. 

Gradually  the  voices  of  Selwyn  and  Brodick 
became  softer  and  yet  more  earnest;  and  Helen 
sat  with  her  crochet  in  her  hand,  listening  to 
them,  her  fine,  sensitive  face  expressing  her 
assent  far  more  eloquently  than  words  could 
have  done.  The  laird  smoked,  and  thought 
his  own  thoughts.  Colin,  standing  by  the  open 
window,  put  in  a  word  now  and  then,  and 
watched  Helen's  face  furtively,  as  his  eyes  wan- 


46  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  MCNEIL. 

dercd  between  the  speakers  and  the  misty 
mountains;  and  over  all  the  evening  shadows 
gathered,  gray  and  solemn,  and  the  parlour 
seemed  strangely  quiet,  in  spite  of  the  serious 
voices  and  the  soft,  tinkling  music. 

Suddenly  the  door  was  hastily  opened,  and 
the  footman  said  in  a  voice  of  suppressed 
excitement,  — 

"  Hector  Oe  would  speak  with  you,  Laird." 

McNeil  rose  in  a  moment,  with  a  face  full  of 
alarmed  expectation.  Hector  Oe  was  his  head 
shepherd  ;  and  any  unusual  visit  from  him  gener 
ally  portended  some  calamity  among  the  flocks. 
Doctor  Brodick  understood  this;  he  rose  and 
stood  by  the  side  of  Colin.  Selwyn  bent  forward 
and  spoke  to  Helen.  Grizelda's  soft,  aimless 
playing  went  on  without  a  break. 

In  a  few  minutes  McNeil  re-entered  the  room. 
He  was  trembling  with  passion;  he  could 
scarcely  command  his  voice  as  he  said,  — 

"  Doctor,  Colin,  those  dogs  of  Maxwell's 
have  worried  to  death  more  than  two  score  of 
my  best  ewes." 

"  It  is  an  outrageous  shame,"  answered  the 
minister.  "  They  have  already  done  great  dam 
age  to  the  flocks  on  the  Greenlees  estate.  I 


A   DAY  OF  EARTH'S   UNREST.  47 

heard   that   Greenlees  was   suing   him    for   the 
price  of  two  thousand  sheep." 

"  I  will  not  trouble  the  law.  I  will  be  my 
own  judge  and  jury  in  this  matter.  I  have  bid 
Hector  Oe  shoot  the  brutes,  and  then  hang 
them  on  Maxwell's  gate-posts." 

Grizelda  had  stopped  playing  when  McNeil 
first  spoke ;  at  these  words  she  rose,  and  com 
ing  forward  into  the  clearer  light,  said,  — 

"  You  have  given  a  most  ungentlemanly  and 
unwise  order,  father.  It  is  Hector  Oe's  fault. 
What  are  shepherds  for  but  to  protect  the 
sheep?  " 

Her  father  heard  her  with  amazement  which 
had  no  words,  and  Doctor  Brodick  answered 
for  him. 

"  You  do  not  know  what  you  are  talking 
about,  Grizelda.  Maxwell  is  quite  aware  of  the 
vice  which  these  brutes  practise.  He  has  been 
kindly  remonstrated  with,  for  I  went  myself  to 
him ;  he  has  been  asked  to  keep  them,  at  least, 
within  his  own  bounds.  He  ought  to  destroy 
them." 

"  A  man  has  a  right  to  keep  the  dogs  he 
prefers.  He  does  not  interfere  with  those  which 
you  or  my  father  keep." 


48  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  MCNEIL. 

"  He  has  no  such  right,  Grizclda.  In  a  com 
munity  of  sheep-owners,  a  dog  that  worries 
sheep  —  " 

"  Doctor,  Grizelda  knows  what  is  right.  Out 
of  a  wicked  perversity  she  speaks.  Go  to  your 
own  room,  miss,  till  you  can  find  a  better  cause 
to  espouse  than  that  of  two  vicious  dogs  and 
their  hound  of  a  master." 

"  Lord  Maxwell  is  not  a  hound." 

"  He  is  the  worst  hound  of  the  three.  I  will 
not  have  another  word  from  you,  Grizelda;"  and 
McNeil  himself  set  wide  the  door,  and  imperi 
ously  ordered  the  contumacious  girl  through  it. 

This  event  impressed  every  one  with  a  sense 
of  finality:  the  life  embodied  in  the  past  few 
weeks  was  a  finished  scene ;  the  actors  in  it  had 
now  new  parts  to  fill.  Mr.  Selwyn  went  away 
with  less  regret  than  he  would  have  thought 
possible  twenty- four  hours  previously;  for 
McNeil,  Colin,  and  even  Doctor  Brodick  were 
heartful  of  the  malicious  injury  perpetrated 
on  the  old  lairds  of  the  land  by  a  stranger,  a 
borderer,  almost  an  Englishman. 


CliAPTER  III. 

A   SECRET   LETTER  AND   ITS   ISSUES. 

Oh,  what  a  tangled  web  we  weave 
When  first  we  practise  to  deceive ! 

A  man  with  all  the  bad  qualities  his  language  has  names  for. 

Look  round  the  habitable  world,  how  few 
Know  their  own  good,  or,  knowing  it,  pursue  ! 

So  blind  we  are,  our  wishes  are  so  vain, 

That  what  we  most  desire  proves  most  our  pain. 

DRYDEN. 

REAT  were  the  needs  of  the  present  time ; 
they  made  their  demands  first,  and  in 
their  attack,  so  surprising  and  so  blunt,  men 
forgot  all  about  the  future,  its  lofty  ideals  and 
its  beneficent  plans. 

Grizelda  obeyed  her  father  because  the  powers 
present  were  too  much  for  her  to  resist;  but 
she  was  intensely  angry,  and  her  anger  did  not 
evaporate  in  a  few  indignant  tears  and  -words. 
Indeed,  she  never  thought  of  weeping.  Her 
first  act  on  reaching  her  room  was  to  write  a 
4 


50  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF 

note  which  she  sent  by  her  maid  to  Lord  Max 
well.  She  was  especially  anxious  to  prevent  any 
positive  quarrel  between  him  and  her  father; 
and  she  knew  if  the  McNeil's  orders  were  car 
ried  out  no  future  reconciliation  was  possible. 

Hitherto  Maxwell's  admiration  for  Grizelda 
McNeil  had  been  shown  within  legitimate  and 
honourable  bounds.  In  the  houses  of  the 
neighbouring  gentry,  when  he  met  her,  he  chose 
to  linger  by  her  side,  to  walk  with  her  in  the 
gardens,  to  make  her  conspicuously  his  partner 
ia  the  dance.  Grizelda  was  fond  of  riding,  and 
it  happened,  perhaps  with  some  vague  under 
standing  of  its  likelihood,  that  their  paths  were 
often  identical.  And  there  had  been  at  these 
times  such  love-making  as  naturally  comes  to 
pass  when  youth  and  beauty  and  inexperience 
are  at  the  mercy  of  a  handsome  man,  skilled  in 
all  the  ways  of  selfish  gratification. 

For  undoubtedly  Maxwell  was  handsome. 
He  had  an  aristocratic  bearing,  a  manner  at 
once  suave  and  authoritative,  and  a  face  of  per 
fect  regularity;  but  it  was  a  face  without  a 
heart, —  a  face  that  might  have  been  carved  from 
steel,  so  fine  and  yet  so  cold  was  it.  The  eyes 
never  laughed  when  the  man  laughed;  and 


A   SECRET  LETTER  AND  ITS  ISSUES.       51 

their  glance,  unsteady,  piercing,  obtrusive,  left 
an  unpleasant  impression  of  something  that 
was  almost  insolence. 

McNeil  had  disliked  him  on  sight.  At  first 
he  tried  to  reason  himself  out  of  such  an  un 
reasonable  prejudice ;  but  the  toleration  granted 
to  the  absent  Maxwell  was  instantly  withdrawn 
when  he  met  him  face  to  face.  Finally  he  be 
came  aware  that  the  aversion  was  not  to  be 
eradicated  any  more  than  it  was  to  be  under 
stood.  "  Our  souls  are  at  enmity,"  he  said  to 
Doctor  Brodick;  "  they  do  not  believe  anything 
our  tongues  say." 

This  was  the  state  of  feeling  between  McNeil 
and  Maxwell  on  that  night  when  Grizelda  took 
her  first  wrong  step.  When  her  father  sent  her 
from  his  presence,  she  opened  her  heart  to 
every  evil  power.  Impulse  is  generally  the 
Devil's  own  whisper;  and  she  followed  her  first 
impulse,  which  was  to  write  and  tell  Lord  Max 
well  of  the  intention  of  "  certain  parties  "  re 
specting  his  offending  dogs.  Had  she  waited 
an  hour,  she  would  have  written  a  far  less  effu 
sive  note ;  had  she  waited  until  morning,  she 
would  not  have  written  at  all. 

Lord  Maxwell  was  alone  when  he  received  it. 


52  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL. 

He  had  been  sipping  wine,  and  turning  the 
leaves  of  one  of  Sue's  novels  for  a  couple  of 
hours,  and  was  precisely  in  the  mood  to  find  in 
Grizelda's  note  the  very  stimulus  his  nature 
wanted.  His  first  step  was  to  secure  his  dogs. 
To  have  them  shot  and  hung  at  his  gates  would 
be  an  intolerable  insult,  because  it  was  one 
which  he  could  not  avenge.  The  law  would 
give  him  no  redress,  he  could  not  enter  into  a 
quarrel  with  servants,  and,  as  he  admitted  to 
himself,  servants  of  such  gigantic  stature  and 
strength  that  they  had  immense  physical  ad 
vantage  over  him.  Well,  then,  as  he  was  unable 
to  strike,  it  was  better  not  to  lift  his  hand ;  and 
he  said  with  a  hateful  little  laugh  as  he  tapped 
the  table  with  Grizelda's  note,  — 

"  I  thank  you,  miss,  for  keeping  me  out  of 
this  trap,  and  for  showing  me  the  way  to  a  far 
sweeter  revenge." 

For  Grizelda's  interference  said  plainly  that 
he  had  won  the  girl's  heart ;  and  though  he  felt 
a  slight  scorn  for  his  easy  conquest,  he  per 
ceived  that  it  put  the  father's  heart  under  his 
feet.  The  possibilities  of  his  plan,  though  as 
yet  complicated  and  confused,  were  certain 
enough  to  give  him,  in  anticipation,  an  intoxi- 


A  SECRET  LETTER  AND  ITS  ISSUES.       53 

eating  draught  of  the  sinful  triumph  he  felt 
certain  of. 

He  had  a  shrewd  idea  as  to  where  he  would 
be  likely  to  meet  Grizelda  next  day;  and  he 
lingered  near  the  spot  for  hours.  But  though 
Grizelda  had  precisely  the  same  thought, 
though  she  was  certain  he  was  slowly  riding 
up  and  down  that  part  of  the  moor  which 
touched  the  wall  of  the  fir  wood,  and  moment 
arily  expecting  her  to  emerge  from  its  green 
depths,  Grizelda  did  not  keep  this  mental  tryst. 
She  wished  to  do  so,  but  some  womanly  instinct 
made  it  impossible.  She  was  naturally  a  very 
proud  girl,  and  at  this  hour  her  pride  stood  her 
in  the  place  of  nobler  sentiments.  She  felt 
keenly  that  she  had  forfeited  something  that 
belonged  to  the  finest  conception  of  woman 
hood  in  writing  to  Maxwell,  and  she  could  not 
delude  herself  with  the  idea  that  she  had  done 
so  to  prevent  quarrelling,  perhaps  bloodshed. 

So,  as  a  kind  of  peace-offering  to  her  wounded 
self-respect,  she  did  not  go  to  walk  in  the  fir 
wood.  She  even  compelled  herself  to  remain 
in  her  own  room,  lest  the  exquisite  weather 
might  tempt  her  into  the  garden,  and  her  weak 
heart  tempt  her  into  the  wood. 


54  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL. 

But  Maxwell  gave  her  no  credit  for  this  self- 
denial.  He  understood  women  so  well  that  he 
had  been  over  the  whole  ground  of  Grizelda's 
feelings  and  reasonings  before  he  left  his  own 
house,  and  had  even  taken  a  bet  with  himself 
that  she  would  not  come  to  meet  him.  Her 
absence  gratified  his  opinion  of  his  own  pene 
tration,  but  still  it  did  not  please  him.  Having 
taken  one  step  aside  from  the  narrow,  conven 
tional  road,  he  would  really  have  respected  her 
more  if  she  had  dared  to  do  what  he  knew  her 
heart  prompted  her  to  do,  and  have  thus  given 
to  his  wooing  something  piquant  and  unusual. 

He  smiled  as  he  turned  homeward. 

"  She  will  meet  me  to-morrow,  perhaps ;  but 
if  it  be  a  week,  —  a  month  hence,  —  in  the  long 
run  it  will  be  the  same." 

He  was  thinking  such  thoughts  when  he  met 
Doctor  Brodick.  He  stopped  his  horse  and  spoke 
to  him  with  the  utmost  respect,  carrying  the 
conversation  from  one  topic  to  another  with 
great  tact  and  volubility.  But  the  doctor  was 
not  deceived  by  his  clever  suavity,  and  he  met 
it  by  that  blunt  honesty  which  always  confounds 
speech  used  for  deception. 

"  Lord  Maxwell,"  he  said,  "  I  have  been  to 


A   SECRET  LETTER  AND  ITS  ISSUES.       55 

your  place  to  seek  a  word  with  you.  I  may  as 
well  say  it  here.  There  is  a  very  ill  will  to  you 
in  the  country-side  anent  those  vicious  curs  that 
are  worrying  the  flocks  around  Edderloch.  I 
have  spoken  to  you  before  about  it.  Keep 
those  dogs  up,  my  lord,  and  you  will  save 
yourself  a  deal  of  trouble." 

"  Doctor  Brodick,  I  am  sorry  you  have  inter 
fered  in  this  matter.  I  do  not  recognize  your 
right  to  do  so." 

"  Edderloch  is  my  parish,  Maxwell.  It  is  my 
duty  to  reprove  wrong  in  it,  whether  the  wrong 
doer  be  lord  or  shepherd.  You  are  a  stranger 
in  these  parts,  Lord ;  but  let  me  tell  you  that  the 
thing  you  are  responsible  for  is  an  outrage  not 
to  be  tolerated  in  a  community  where  sheep  are 
a  man's  main  property." 

"  Doctor,  you  have  done  your  duty  then ;  let 
me  say  you  are  a  trifle  late  about  it.  A  much 
more  persuasive  tongue  than  yours  has  already 
counselled  me.  If  it  will  give  you  any  satisfac 
tion,  I  will  admit  that  I  have  listened  to  the 
voice  of  the  charmer,  and  confined  the  objec 
tionable  animals.  Have  you  been  at  the  castle 
to-day?  I  hope  the  McNeils  are  all  well. 
Good  evening,  Doctor."  And  putting  spurs  to 


56  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  MCNEIL. 

his  horse,  he  rode  off  with  the  air  of  a  man  who 
had  not  only  cleared  himself,  but  also  adminis 
tered  a  well-deserved  rebuke  in  a  very  reasonable 
manner. 

For  a  moment  the  minister  was  in  a  blaze 
of  anger,  and  his  first  impulse  was  to  lift  the 
stout  thorn  stick  in  his  right  hand;  but  in 
stead  he  struck  it  firmly  into  the  yielding  turf. 
"  Keep  yourself  in  hand,  Dugald  Brodick,"  he 
said  sharply;  "keep  yourself  in  hand!  Are 
you  going  to  sin  because  an  ill  man  tempts 
you?"  For  a  few  minutes  the  spiritual  strug 
gle  was  as  intense  as  it  was  silent  and  motion 
less;  then  his  lips  began  to  move,  his  large, 
gray  eyes  were  uplifted,  he  whispered  softly, 
as  he  resumed  his  walk,  "  Thou  wilt  keep  him 
in  perfect  peace  whose  mind  is  stayed  on  Thee ! 
Perfect  peace!  Nothing  half-way,  nothing  in 
complete  in  that  promise.  Take  hold  cf  it, 
Dugald  Brodick !  " 

For  a  short  time  he  walked  rapidly,  but  it 
was  not  long  ere  he  regained  that  absolute 
personal  controul  which  his  usual  thoughtful 
pace  and  calm  countenance  indicated.  Then 
he  began  to  speak  to  himself  in  a  remonstra- 
tive  tone :  "  Dugald,  to  be  possessed  of  the  Devil 


A  SECRET  LETTER  AND  ITS  ISSUES.       57 

is  a  bad  thing,  but  I  'm  doubting  whether  it  is 
as  bad  as  to  be  possessed  of  yourself.  Dugald 
Brodick  knows  Dugald  Brodick  so  well  that 
he  has  advantages  even  Satan  has  not.  Dugald 
Brodick  possessed  of  Dugald  Brodick  would  be 
a  sinner  set  upon  a  hill.  Only  Christ  in  him 
could  cast  out  that  tyranny." 

The  imperative  personal  conflict  over,  he  be 
gan  to  reflect  upon  Maxwell's  peculiar  words. 
Connecting  them  with  Grizelda's  intemperate 
action  of  the  previous  night,  he  was  at  no  loss 
to  divine  the  charmer  whose  voice  had  been 
listened  to.  But  the  conviction  gave  him  a 
heartache.  Grizclda,  with  all  her  faults,  was 
very  dear  and  pleasant  in  his  sight.  She  had 
been  born  shortly  after  the  death  of  his  own 
young  wife,  and  he  had  taken  to  her,  and  found 
comfort  in  her  caresses,  and  had  her  much  with 
him  all  through  her  babyhood  and  girlhood. 
He  had  felt  a  pride  in  her  beauty  and  talents, 
and  been  very  tolerant  to  the  high  temper 
and  lofty  will,  in  which  he  recognized  a  spirit 
very  kindred  to  his  own  natural  disposition. 

The  next  morning  he  made  an  opportunity 
to  speak  to  his  favourite.  She  was  by  this  time 
in  a  mood  to  listen.  A  little  shame  for  her  own 


58  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  Me  NEIL. 

action,  a  little  regret  for  her  treachery  to  the 
sacredness  of  home  confidence,  a  dim  knowl 
edge  in  her  own  soul  that  she  was  in  danger, 
aided  by  the  physical  depression  consequent 
on  intense  emotion  and  sleeplessness,  all  com 
bined,  made  Grizelda  unusually  gentle  and 
reasonable. 

"  He  is  the  very  worst  sweetheart  you  could 
pick  out,  my  dear,"  said  the  minister,  kindly; 
"  he  can  make  you  '  my  lady '  surely,  but  he  is 
not  as  rich  nor  as  good  a  man  in  any  respect  as 
young  Finlay,  of  Finlay  Steppe,  who  would  be 
proud  indeed  if  you  but  looked  at  him.  Finlay 
is  a  Highland  gentleman,  at  home  here  before 
ever  an  Englishman  crossed  the  border.  Max 
well  is  nothing  but  a  stranger;  he  only  got 
a  footing  in  Knapdale  by  buying  your  far-off 
cousin's  property,  when  the  poor  laird  was  in 
a  trouble  he  could  not  sort." 

"There  was  nothing  wrong  in  that.  Malcolm 
McNeil  wanted  to  sell." 

"  I  am  not  saying  it  was  wrong;  but,  Grizelda, 
there  is  a  great  prejudice  against  Lord  Maxwell, 
and  there  are  causes  for  it.  A  man  that  regards 
not  the  rights  of  his  fellow-men  is  not  likely 
to  obey  the  commands  of  God ;  and  if  a  man 


A   SECRET  LET  TEX  AND  ITS  ISSUES.       59 

has  no  fear  of  God  before  his  eyes,  how  can  a 
woman  trust  her  life  with  him?" 

"  I  think  Lord  Maxwell  loves  me." 

"  A  man  that  loves  not  God  loves  not  either 
man  or  woman  rightly.  He  is  not  to  be  de 
pended  upon.  He  goes  out  with  the  tide,  and 
comes  in  with  the  tide,  and  never  puts  out  an 
anchor,  or  grips  tight  to  any  single  principle  of 
justice  or  human  kindness.  I  would  not  trust 
my  life  with  a  godless  man  any  more  than  I 
would  trust  my  life  in  a  fisher's  cobble  without 
sail  or  oar." 

"  You  are  correcting  me  in  advance  of  my 
fault,  Doctor,"  answered  Grizelda,  fretfully. 
"  Lord  Maxwell  has  not  asked  me  to  trust  my 
life  to  him ;  and  if  he  did,  there  are  many  things 
to  consider.  I  suppose,  for  instance,  my  father 
would  go  into  a  passion  about  it,  and  Helen 
would  look  heart-broken,  and  cousin  Colin 
would  fume  about  the  family  honour  as  if  he 
was  a  son  of  the  family." 

"  My  lassie,  take  care  of  your  words !  You 
have  no  right  to  criticise  your  father,  even  in 
your  thoughts;  and  the  fleck  at  your  Cousin 
Colin  is  not  kind-like  nor  woman-like." 

"  I  think  a  prejudice  ought  to  give  way  be- 


60  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  MCNEIL. 

fore  a  good  reason;  and  when  a  girl's  happiness 
is  at  stake  —  " 

"  Happiness  !  happiness  !  What  is  happi 
ness,  Grizelda?  What  is  it?  Gratified  self- 
love  !  Take  my  advice :  go  and  do  your  work 
and  play  your  piano,  and  don't  sit  idle  plan 
ning  deceit  and  wrong.  Evil  thoughts  are  al 
most  evil  beings.  The  minute  you  conceive 
a  wrong  thought,  you  give  it  form;  and  it  is 
not  in  human  nature  to  conceive  evil  without, 
at  the  same  time,  rousing  the  desire  to  carry 
that  evil  into  reality.  Don't  say,  as  so  many 
young  girls  do:  'My  thoughts  are  my  own!' 
They  are  not  your  own !  If  they  are  not  in 
nocent  thoughts  they  are  the  Devil's,  and  bound 
to  do  him  service." 

"What  have  I  done?  You  are  reproving  me 
without  cause." 

"  Without  cause !  Did  you  not  betray  the 
purpose  of  your  father's  house  to  his  enemy?  " 

It  was  a  question  based  upon  Lord  Maxwell's 
words,  and  the  minister  asked  it  with  a  heart 
fearful  of  her  acknowledgment. 

"I  did  so  for  a  good  reason,  —  to  prevent 
hatred  and  quarrelling." 

"  You  are  not  permitted  to  do  evil  that  good 


A  SECRET  LETTER  AND  ITS  ISSUES.      6 1 

may  come.  It  is  a  pernicious  fallacy  !  It  is  an  in 
sult  to  Almighty  God  to  suppose  that  He  must 
borrow  the  Devil's  tools  to  do  his  work  with ! 
All  that  concerns  you,  Grizelda,  is  to  do  right." 

He  had  bent  toward  her  and  taken  both  her 
hands  in  his.  The  majestic  force  of  conviction 
was  in  his  face  and  words ;  Grizelda  could  not 
but  be  sorry  for  the  wrong  she  had  done,  in  the 
presence  of  an  accuser  at  once  so  faithful  and 
so  kind.  So  he  perceived  in  her  face  the  re 
solve  he  desired ;  and  he  left  her  in  the  full  hope 
that  she  had  seen  the  reasonableness  of  his 
reproof,  and  would  be  true  to  her  conscience 
and  her  womanhood. 

Grizelda  intended  to  be  so.  She  resolved 
•to  keep  out  of  temptation,  and  for  three  days 
Maxwell  rode  to  his  self-appointed  tryst  and 
found  no  one  to  meet  him.  Then  his  confi 
dence  began  to  waver ;  his  vanity  was  wounded  ; 
he  perceived  that  there  were  influences  at 
work  to  prevent  any  meeting  between  him  and 
Grizelda;  and  the  fiercest  passion  in  man,  the 
passion  of  chase  blended  with  the  passion  of 
revenge,  was  fully  roused  in  his  heart.  If 
Grizelda  had  been  without  a  single  charm,  he 
felt  now  that  he  must  marry  her.  But  neither 


62  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

his  nature  nor  his  education  led  him  to  con 
template  anything  like  the  vulgarity  of  an 
elopement.  It  would  be  a  far  more  perfect 
satisfaction  to  mould  Grizelda  so  completely 
to  his  will  that  his  influence  should  be  the 
dominant  one  in  McNeil  Castle ;  that  it  should 
fill  all  the  rooms  with  a  sullen  sense  of  wrong 
and  dissatisfaction ;  put  enmity  between  the 
child  and  the  father;  and  make  his  marriage 
at  last  a  ceremony  in  which  he  would  conde 
scend  to  accept  the  girl  whom  he  had  made 
unfit  for  any  society  but  his  own.  Of  course, 
like  all  other  schemers,  he  forgot  to  take  into 
account  any  counteracting  influence,  any  un 
foreseen  contingent.  He  simply  conceived  a 
plot,  and  demanded  of  destiny  that  it  should 
be  carried  out. 

His  first  movement  was  to  write  to  Grizelda ; 
and  as  he  had  resolved  to  fully  commit  him 
self,  the  letter  was  a  passionate  entreaty  for 
an  interview.  It  was  Grizelda's  first  love-letter. 
It  made  her  cheeks  burn  and  her  heart  throb 
with  delight.  There  had  been  nothing  under 
hand  or  secret  about  its  delivery.  It  came 
with  the  regular  mail,  and  the  girl  received  it  at 
the  breakfast  table  with  several  other  letters. 


A   SECRET  LETTER  A. YD  ITS  ISSUES.       63 

Only  Helen  suspected  its  nature.  The  laird 
never  noticed  his  daughter's  suppressed  excite 
ment.  He  was  eating  a  plover's  egg,  and  talk 
ing  in  a  pleasant,  desultory  way  of  the  birds 
breeding  in  the  upland  mosses.  There  was 
something  pitiful  in  his  innocent  unconscious 
ness  of  the  wrong  before  him;  something 
shocking  in  the  readiness  with  which  his  child 
ordered  her  smile  to  meet  his,  and  assumed 
that  air  of  happy  contentment  which  she 
thought  the  best  blind  to  the  watchful  love 
surrounding  her. 

For  in  the  moments  in  which  she  read  Lord 
Maxwell's  letter,  she  resolved  to  take  her  own 
way.  The  decision  was  instantaneous,  but  posi 
tive.  By  a  mental  action  she  put  behind  her 
instantly  every  consideration  that  could  make 
her  waver.  For  — 

Alas !  men  and  women  are  all 

The  children  of  our  first  mother,  Eve. 

What  is  given  is  lightly  valued  ; 

And  the  cunning  serpent  is  ever  near 

To  show  them  the  mysterious  untasted  tree. 

And  heaven  itself  is  not  heaven 

If  the  forbidden  fruit  be  withheld. 

Russian  poem. 

So  when  the  breakfast  was  finished,  she  went 
to  her  own  room,  and  read  over  and  over 


64  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  Me  NEIL. 

the   few  lines  which   had   so  powerfully  influ 
enced  her:  — 

BEAUTIFUL  GRIZELDA,  —  I  have  been  watching 
three  weary  days  for  a  sight  of  your  face.  Your 
wonderful  favour  surely  gave  me  some  reason  to 
hope  for  it.  Let  me  see  you,  I  entreat !  I  know 
not  how  I  shall  endure  another  day  without  you. 
I  live  but  to  think  of  you,  to  hope  for  you,  to  watch 
and  wait  for  a  glance  from  your  eyes,  a  word  from 
your  lips,  and  a  touch  of  that  hand  whose  touch 
can  make  me  the  happiest  lover  in  the  world.  Surely, 
you  will  walk  in  the  fir  plantation  this  afternoon. 
Another  disappointment  will  drive  to  despair  your 

adorer, 

MAXWELL. 

It  was  a  very  ordinary  letter.  It  had  cost  the 
writer  scarcely  a  thought ;  but  for  it  the  foolish 
girl  was  ready  to  cast  away  all  the  sweet  love 
which  had  cared  for  and  guarded  her  and 
blessed  her  throughout  her  life.  The  writer 
was  a  comparative  stranger  who  had  put  him 
self  outside  the  good-will  of  the  community,  and 
who  had  been  covertly  guilty  of  a  serious  in 
jury  to  her  father's  interests;  but  now  she  was 
quite  ready  to  find  excuses  for  all  his  faults, 
even  though  she  had  to  slander  those  who  loved 
her  to  do  so. 


A   SECKET  LETTER  AND  ITS  ISSUES.       65 

Nor  was  she  infatuated  beyond  her  reason. 
In  her  truest  consciousness  she  felt  his  un- 
worthiness.  It  was  not  passion,  not  ignorance, 
not  folly,  not  ambition,  not  even  wilfulness  that 
laid  the  foundation  of  her  sin.  It  was  what 
many  girls  consider  a  fine  thing:  sentimentality, 
—  the  putting  of  imagination  before  principle 
and  duty.  It  seemed  romantic  to  meet  her 
lover  clandestinely;  to  compare  herself  with  the 
heroines  of  her  fancy,  of  her  reading;  to  "  stand 
by  her  choice  though  all  the  world  was  against 
him ;  "  ignoring  the  fact  that  if  her  choice  was 
unworthy  of  such  devotion,  the  motive  was 
deprived  of  every  element  of  respect.  Besides, 

This  was  the  way  with  her  :  to  vaguely  sigh, 
Hating  the  weary  sameness  of  each  day, 

The  noiseless  round  of  pleasant  tasks  that  try 
To  sweeten  life  in  many  a  quiet  way  ; 

Hating  the  scented  sunshine,  the  still  air, 

The  plenteous  gifts  that  came  without  a  care. 

She  said,  "  I  weary;  if  some  change  would  come! 

I  want  to  see,  feel,  hear  the  stress  of  life. 
I  shall  grow  cold  and  blind  and  deaf  and  dumb ; 

I  want  some  active  joy,  though  it  bring  strife. 
My  days  are  all  alike  ;  a  change  would  be 
Like  giving  to  a  captive  liberty." 

So  much  she  said  in  her  unthankful  mood, 
never  reflecting  that  change  comes  seldom  with 

5 


66  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  MCNEIL. 

pleasure,  often  with  pain,  scarcely  listening  to 
the  sweet  remonstrating  voice  of  her  better 
angel,  questioning, — 

Art  thou  so  weary  of  thy  sister's  love? 

So  weary  of  thy  father's  brooding  care  ? 
So  tired  of  halcyon  days  that  only  move 

To  the  sweet  calls  of  duty  and  of  prayer  ? 
Art  weary  of  God's  blessing  ?     Wouldst  thou  flee 
Out  of  the  fold  where  He  has  sheltered  thee  ? 

Sing  like  a  bird  within  thy  happy  nest, 
Bloom  like  a  flower  beneath  thy  cloudless  sky! 

Rest  like  a  child  upon  its  mother's  breast, 
And  pray  that  this  change  only  come  to  thee,— 

A  thankful  heart ;  then  thy  long,  weary  days 

Would  be  too  short  for  happiness  and  praise. 

It  was  this  sentimental  dissatisfaction  with 
the  blessings  of  her  daily  life,  and  this  longing 
for  something  romantic,  forbidden,  something 
secret  and  personal,  that  made  Grizelda  turn 
aside  from  the  right  path.  She  was  the  captive 
of  her  own  foolish  imagination  before  she 
became  the  captive  of  an  unprincipled  man. 

Helen  was  not  so  unsuspicious  of  the  state  of 
affairs  as  the  laird  had  been.  The  minister  had 
given  her  a  warning  and  advice,  and  her 
womanly  instincts  had  led  her  to  a  clear  inter 
pretation  of  Grizclda's  face  and  manner.  As 
far  as  it  was  right,  she  was  inclined  to  sympa- 


A   SECRET  LETTER  AND  ITS  ISSUES.       6/ 

thize  with  her  sister.  She  did  not  think  the 
faults  in  Maxwell's  character  so  grave  as  to 
preclude  the  idea  of  marriage  if  there  were 
a  true  love  between  him  and  Grizelda.  But 
she  regretted  the  circumstances  which  were 
likely  to  prevent  an  open  and  honourable 
courtship  ;  for  she  still  hoped  that  a  better 
acquaintance  with  the  young  lord  would  reveal 
many  good  qualities  not  as  yet  known. 

She  felt  certain  that  the  letter  made  an  ap 
pointment  which  Grizelda  would  keep  ;  and  she 
thought  it  best  to  speak  to  her  on  the  subject, 
and  thus  deprive  the  meeting  of  the  silly  senti 
ment  of  secrecy  and  of  a  supposed  opposition, 
only  to  be  met  by  a  clever  deceit. 

In  an  hour  Grizelda  returned  to  the  parlour. 
Helen  looked  at  her  with  admiration  as  she 
bent  silently  over  her  embroidery  frame.  Her 
countenance  was  so  beaming  that  its  rosy  light 
made  remarkable  the  whiteness  of  her  hands, 
moving  quickly  among  the  brilliant  colours  of 
her  wools.  The  countenance  has  always  a 
luminousness  that  the  other  parts  of  the  body 
lack;  and  Grizelda's  soul  was  in  her  face, 
darting  from  her  eyes,  flushing  her  cheeks, 
wreathing  her  lips  with  smiles,  making  her 


68  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL. 

brow  shine  and  her  eyelids  quiver.  She  was 
happy,  and  she  showed  it  in  the  undulations 
of  her  figure,  and  the  freedom  of  her  wavy  hair, 
straying  and  curling  as  if  it  was  laughing  and 
dancing  to  the  girl's  thoughts. 

"  How  pretty  you  are  this  morning,  Grizelda !" 

"  I  feel  so  happy." 

"  You  got  a  letter  from  Lord  Maxwell,  I 
think;  at  least,  I  thought  it  was  his  seal.  Is 
he  coming  to  see  you?" 

"  How  can  he  come  here?  Just  imagine  the 
way  in  which  our  father  would  receive  him !  " 

"  He  might  be  coming  to  apologize  and  make 
things  pleasant." 

"Why  should  he  apologize?  " 

"  Well,  I  think  if  father's  dogs  had  done 
damage  to  Lord  Maxwell's  flock,  he  would 
apologize  and  make  all  the  restitution  in  his 
power." 

Grizelda  did  not  answer ;  she  appeared  to  be 
busy  counting  her  stitches. 

"  Grizelda,  dear,  will  you  tell  me  what  Max 
well  wrote  to  you  about?  " 

"  Why  should  you  interfere,  Helen?  " 

"  Because  I  love  you  so  much,  dear,  and  I 
am  afraid  he  wishes  you  to  meet  him  secretly." 


A  SECRET  LETTER  AND  ITS  ISSUES.       69 

"  There  is  no  harm  in  that." 

"  There  is  both  harm  and  danger.  If  you 
think  there  is  no  harm,  why  do  you  not  tell 
father?" 

"  Lord  Maxwell  loves  me." 

"  Then  he  ought  to  say  so  in  an  honourable 
manner." 

"  Helen,  I  do  not  think  as  you  do.  I  will 
not  have  my  affairs  discussed  by  the  whole 
household,  and  wrangled  over  by  lawyers.  If 
I  love  a  man  well  enough  to  marry  him,  I 
am  going  to  trust  him  absolutely." 

"  Grizelda,  you  remember  our  mother.  If 
she  were  alive  to-day,  you  know  what  she 
would  say  to  you.  Think  that  you  are  listen 
ing  to  her.  My  dear  sister,  do  not  meet  Max 
well  secretly.  If  he  truly  loves  you,  he  will 
conciliate  father  and  come  to  you." 

"  This  is  my  affair,  Helen.  I  do  not  interfere 
between  you  and  Colin.  I  got  out  of  Mr. 
Selwyn's  way,  and  let  him  have  every 
opportunity," 

"  Grizelda,  Mr.  Selwyn  never  thought  of 
love." 

"  Oh,  indeed !  He  did  not  hide  his  thoughts 
from  me." 


70  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL. 

"  I  am  speaking  of  your  life,  not  Mr. 
Selwyn's." 

"  I  can  manage  my  own  life  very  well,  Helen. 
All  I  ask  of  you  is  to  have  eyes  and  see  not, 
and  ears  and  hear  not." 

"I  cannot  do  that,  Grizelda." 
"  You  intend  to  be  a  tell-tale,  do  you?  " 
"  I    intend   to    protest    against   your   making 
assignations  with  Lord  Maxwell.     It  is  wrong; 
it   is  unwomanly  and    unladylike.     You  wrong 
both  yourself  and  your  position  by  it.     Dearest 
Zelda,  let  me  speak  in  my  mother's  place  and 
my  father's  place  this  morning." 
"  I  will  not  listen  to  you.     Now!  " 
"Then,    if    you     are    determined    to    meet 
Maxwell,  let  me  go  with  you  ? " 

"  Certainly  not.  I  can  take  care  of  myself, 
and  I  wish  you  would  believe  it.  I  was  so 
happy,  and  you  have  made  me  miserable.  I 
think  you  are  selfish  beyond  everything.  Just 
because  Colin  and  you  choose  to  do  your 
courting  by  rule  and  method,  you  want  Max 
well  and  me  to  do  the  same.  There  is  some 
thing  very  unjust  and  unsistcrly  in  it.  Now, 
I  am  not  going  to  say  another  word  on  the 
matter." 


A  SECRET  LETTER  AND  ITS  ISSUES.       Jl 

She  set  her  face  so  dourly,  and  bent  her 
head  so  determinedly  to  her  work,  that  Helen 
saw  further  conversation  was  impossible.  She 
knew  not  what  step  to  take.  Something  must 
be  done ;  but  she  had  a  dislike  to  speak  to  her 
father,  when  he  was  already  so  angry  at  Max 
well.  Who  could  tell  what  wretched  results 
might  ensue  if  the  two  men  came  in  contact 
with  Grizelda  between  them? 

"  I  will  write  to  Doctor  Brodick !  " 

The  thought  seemed  to  her  the  best  solution 
of  the  difficulty ;  and  thus  it  happened  that  the 
minister,  as  he  sat  at  his  solitary  dinner,  re 
ceived  a  letter  which  made  him  push  his  plate 
aside  and  seek  the  more  composing  and  re 
flective  influence  of  his  pipe.  And  the  result 
of  this  session  with  himself  was  exactly  what 
Helen  had  hoped  and  expected. 

"  I  '11  see  the  young  things  together.  I  know 
where  I  '11  be  likely  to  find  them.  If  there  is 
any  sense  of  honour  in  Maxwell's  heart,  and  any 
sense  of  duty  and  home  affection  in  Grizelda's 
heart,  I  can  surely  make  them  listen  to  me. 
Love  ought  to  be  lovely  and  of  good  report; 
and  I  '11  take  care  there  is  no  other  kind  in 
my  parish,  if  Dugald  Brodick  can  help  it." 


CHAPTER   IV. 

HER  OWN  WAY. 

Better  a  little  chiding  than  a  great  deal  of  heart-break. 

SHAKESPEARE. 

By  Love  the  young  and  tender  wit  is  turned  to  folly. 

SHAKESPEARE. 

First,  then,  a  woman  will,  or  won't,  depend  on  't  ; 
If  she  will  do  't,  she  will  ;  and  there  's  an  end  on  't. 

HILL. 
We  must  do  good  against  evil. 

SHAKESPEARE. 


afternoon  was  a  brilliant  one;  Nature 
herself  seemed  to  be  dreaming  idyls,  and 
Grizelda's  heart,  beating  to  sweet  imaginations, 
was  responsive  to  it.  She  arrayed  herself  in 
a  dress  of  exquisitely  fine  muslin.  Its  pearly 
white,  tinted  with  a  wandering  vine,  gave 
ethereal  beauty  to  her  dazzling  complexion. 
A  floating  gauze  scarf  was  across  her  shoulders; 
a  little  straw  bonnet  on  her  head,  trimmed  with 
corn-flowers  and  a  few  ears  of  wheat. 


HER  OWN  WAY.  73 

Never  had  Helen  seen  her  look  more  lovely, 
more  full  of  life,  more  certainly  happy.  She 
went  with  her  to  the  door  leading  into  the 
garden,  and  put  her  hand  in  Grizelda's. 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  you  are  doing  right, 
dear?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  am  quite  sure  I  am  doing  what  will  make 
me  happy." 

"  Zelda,  bear  with  me  a  moment.  If  this  love 
is  necessary  to  your  happiness,  then,  dear,  I  will 
speak  to  father;  he  is  so  good,  so  self-denying 
where  our  welfare  is  concerned,  that  I  am  sure 
he  will  be  quite  reasonable  about  Lord  Maxwell. 
Write  to  Lord  Maxwell  now,  and  ask  him  to  call 
here.  I  will  send  a  servant  with  the  note.  Is 
not  our  drawing-room  better  for  an  interview 
than  the  public  moor?  Think  of  what  people 
will  say." 

"Very  few  people  cross  the  moor  at  this  hour. 
If  I  see  any  one  coming,  I  shall  retreat  among 
the  pines." 

"  You  mean  that  you  will  hide  yourself.  Oh, 
Zelda !  Does  not  that  very  necessity  show  you 
that  there  is  something  wrong?  " 

"  No.  Many  things  are  innocent  that  are  not 
to  be  talked  about.  And  how  is  it  possible  for 


74  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

Lord  Maxwell  to  come  here?  Father  would  get 
into  one  of  his  passions,  and  order  him  out  of 
the  house." 

"  Father  is  not  unreasonable.  Lord  Maxwell 
has  only  to  offer  an  apology;  any  man  would 
do  that  under  the  circumstances.  I  will  be  on 
your  side,  Zelda.  Write  a  few  lines,  dear,  and 
let  your  maid  take  them  to  your  lover.  Let 
him  come  to  you.  That  is  only  maidenly  and 
modest." 

"  Helen,  you  are  never  on  my  side.  Any 
other  sister  would  take  some  interest  in  such  a 
love-affair  as  mine;  I  do  not  want  everything 
straightforward  and  agreeable  just  yet.  A  se 
cret  tryst  is  the  only  romantic  one,  and  I  do 
not  thank  you  at  all  for  interfering  with  mine. 
Even  this  talk  about  it  has  robbed  me  of  some 
of  its  charm." 

"  If  you  mean  to  marry  Lord  Maxwell,  it 
can  never  be  done  in  this  way." 

"I  mean  to  marry  him,  and  I  know  better 
than  you  do  how  to  succeed.  If  my  father  had 
said  yes,  and  the  door  was  set  open  for  him,  he 
might  not  want  the  yes  or  the  open  door.  But 
it  is  different  where  there  is  anger  and  opposi 
tion;  love  is  stronger  for  it,  yes,  and  sweeter 


HER   OWN  WAY.  75 

too !  I  prefer  a  little  romance.  Let  me  go, 
Helen.  You  are  only  making  things  worse." 

She  drew  her  hand  away  with  the  words,  and 
went  swiftly  down  the  garden.  Helen  watched 
her  until  she  passed  into  the  pine  wood.  There 
the  girl  slackened  her  pace,  and  stood  still  a 
moment  to  regain  her  mental  poise  and  serenity; 
for  her  breath  came  quick,  and  she  was  in  a 
flurry  of  emotion.  But  how  charmful  was  the 
silence  of  the  pines,  —  silence,  with  a  vague  stir 
in  it.  There  were  no  deep  shadows  where  she 
stood  ;  she  was  in  a  beautiful  gloom,  surrounded 
by  light. 

It  was  here  that  Lord  Maxwell  found  her. 
He  had  left  his  horse  with  his  groom  on  the 
moor  and  come  to  seek  Grizelda.  At  this  mo 
ment  he  certainly  believed  himself  to  be  deeply 
in  love,  and  no  lover  could  have  been  more 
tender,  more  eloquent,  more  irresistibly  per 
suasive.  Maxwell  was  even  astonished  at  his 
own  enthusiasm ;  he  had  never  expected  to  feel 
again  emotions  so  sweet  and  so  enthralling. 

And  it  was  quite  true  that  in  the  clandestine 
nature  of  the  meeting,  in  the  belief  that  it  was 
in  direct  opposition  to  the  wishes  of  McNeil,  in 
the  probability  that  Grizelda's  hand  would  be 


76  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  MCNEIL. 

angrily  refused  him,  in  the  delightful  contin 
gency  of  over-reaching  the  indignant  father  and 
carrying  off  his  daughter  against  his  will,  Lord 
Maxwell  had  found  a  piquant  element  in  a  love 
which  was  otherwise  a  delightful  relief  to  the 
tedium  of  his  purposeless  life. 

It  was  a  charmed  hour  to  both,  and  Maxwell 
became  fascinating  under  its  influence.  For  it 
is  unfortunately  true  that  bad  men  have  often 
an  irresistible  power  over  women.  Eve  is  not 
the  only  one  who  has  found  the  Devil  a  tempter 
not  to  be  denied.  Maxwell's  fine  face  caught 
the  love-light  from  Grizelda's ;  his  eyes  looked 
into  hers  with  a  bewitching  sensibility.  He  had 
the  heart  of  the  sentimental  girl  in  the  open 
palm  of  his  long,  cruel-looking  white  hand. 

She  had  assured  him  of  her  love,  of  her 
willingness  to  do  in  all  things  as  he  directed 
her.  She  had  put  her  father,  her  sister,  her 
duty,  the  tender  obligations  of  her  whole  life, 
under  his  feet.  He  could  not  but  feel  his 
triumph. 

She  had  repeated  to  him,  also,  her  conversa 
tion  with  Helen.  She  had  given  to  it  the  pre 
cise  tone  of  injury  which  she  thought  suited  the 
situation;  and  they  were  discussing  with  de- 


HER   OWN  WAY.  77 

lightful  gusto  the  probable  consequences  of  her 
determined  resistance,  when  they  heard  a  slow, 
heavy  footstep  approaching  them.  Grizelda 
thought  it  was  her  father's,  and  she  trembled 
upon  her  lover's  arm.  Maxwell  was  not  averse 
to  the  encounter;  he  felt  that  he  had  poisoned 
weapons  ready  for  it. 

They  did  not  turn.  They  continued  their 
saunter  and  their  lover-like  conversation,  listen 
ing  all  the  time  to  the  approaching  steps.  In  a 
few  minutes  a  hand  was  laid  upon  Lord  Max 
well's  shoulder,  and  he  turned  in  a  passion  to 
confront  Doctor  Brodick. 

"  Sir,  your  cloth  gives  you  no  warrant  to  be 
impertinent! " 

"  It  gives  me  a  warrant  to  reprove  wrong 
doing  and  to  save  the  foolish  if  I  can.  Grizelda 
McNeil,  you  had  better  go  home;  and  if  Lord 
Maxwell  wants  further  speech  with  you,  he  can 
seek  you  there." 

"  Grizelda,  you  have  promised  to  be  my  wife ; 
you  will  remain  with  me?" 

"  I  am  here  in  your  father's  place ;  you  must 
go  home  now.  My  lord,  release  the  girl.  She 
is  yet  under  age,  and  subject  to  her  father's 
controul." 


78  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL. 

"  Grizelda,  in  an  hour  we  can  be  at  Blair- 
gowrie.  The  minister  is  my  friend ;  he  will 
marry  us  at  once." 

Grizelda  was  now  thoroughly  frightened. 

A  runaway  marriage  was  the  last  thing  she 
desired.  She  had  already  arranged,  in  her  own 
mind,  the  ceremony  as  she  proposed  to  have 
it,  the  dresses  and  guests  and  wedding  journey. 
Besides,  Doctor  Brodick's  authority  was  an  indis 
putable  one ;  never  in  all  her  life  had  the  possi 
bility  of  disobeying  it  occurred  to  her. 

She  dropped  her  lover's  hand ;  and  in  that 
moment  of  hesitation,  the  minister  gently  turned 
her  face  toward  the  castle,  and  stepping  for 
ward,  placed  himself  between  her  and  Lord 
Maxwell.  Instantly  Maxwell  made  an  attempt 
to  regain  his  position  by  Grizelda's  side,  but 
Doctor  Brodick's  hand  fell  upon  his  shoulder 
with  a  grip  that  could  not  be  gainsaid. 

"  Doctor,  remove  your  hand !  Confound  it, 
sir,  you  shall  not  presume  on  your  coat  much 
longer." 

"  I  will  make  you,  Lord,  respect  both  my 
coat  and  the  man  in  my  coat !  "  Then  the 
doctor,  becoming  angry,  though  still  visibly 
calm,  fell  naturally  into  his  -mother  tongue. 


HER   OWN  WAY.  79 

"  Keep  a  ceevil  tongue  i'  your  mouth,  Lord, 
and  your  ither  hand  by  your  side.  Dinna  daur 
to  lift  it.  There  isna  a  fisherman  on  the  coast 
I  couldna  handle,  nor  a  shepherd  on  the  hills 
I  couldna  throw;  sae  if  you  hae  a  grain  o' 
wisdom,  you  willna  force  your  punishment 
frae  me." 

Grizelda  had  stood  quite  still  during  this 
dispute.  Maxwell  answered  the  minister  by 
addressing  her:  "  Grizelda,  this  is  no  scene  for 
you,  my  dear  one.  Go  home  now  and  I  will  see 
you  to-morrow.  My  rights  ace  in  your  hands 
now;  I  am  sure  you  will  not  betray  the  least 
of  them." 

She  would  have  given  him  her  hand  with  the 
assurance,  but  Doctor  Brodick  stood  like  a  sen 
tinel  between  them.  And  Maxwell  was  in  a  grip 
he  could  not  evade,  while  Grizelda  lacked  the 
moral  courage  to  defy  the  prohibition  which 
she  saw  in  the  doctor's  blazing  eyes  and  watch 
ful  face.  Until  Grizelda  was  out  of  sight,  the 
position  the  minister  had  taken  and  compelled 
Maxwell  to  take  was  preserved ;  but  as  soon  as 
she  had  disappeared,  Maxwell  felt  himself  at 
liberty.  They  had  been  moments  of  intense 
feeling  to  both  men.  Doctor  Brodick  already 


80  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

showed  the  reaction  from  them.  A  gloomy 
regret  was  on  his  countenance.  His  voice, 
though  authoritative,  had  regained  its  usual 
modulations  and  propriety.  He  was  the  first 
to  speak. 

"  Believe  me,  Maxwell,  I  am  sorry  for  this 
occasion.  My  interference  was  for  good.  I 
saw  no  other  way  to  prevent  evil." 

"  If  by  preventing  evil  you  mean  preventing 
Grizelda  McNeil  marrying  me,  let  me  assure 
you,  sir,  that  you  have  failed  already.  I  shall 
certainly  marry  her." 

"  Then,  my  lord,  do  not  teach  the  girl  to  be 
disloyal  to  her  father.  You  only  prepare  her  to 
be  in  the  future  disloyal  to  yourself.  I  have  no 
more  to  say  to  you  at  this  time." 

He  turned  on  his  heel,  and  left  the  young 
man  fuming  and  chafing  with  rage  and  humilia 
tion.  And  he  went  straight  to  McNeil  Castle 
and  talked  the  circumstance  over  with  the  laird. 
His  depression  was  so  great  that  it  had  the  ef 
fect  of  dashing  as  with  cold  water  the  father's 
not  unjust  anger.  Both  men  had  the  presenti 
ment  of  sorrow ;  they  felt  the  first  chill  shadows 
of  some  long  calamity. 

But    as    an    outcome   of   this    conversation, 


fJER   OWN  WAY.  8 1 

McNeil's  carriage  was  at  the  door  the  following 
morning  very  early,  and  Helen  and  Grizelda 
were  making  hurried  preparations  for  a  journey 
to  Edinburgh.  No  reason  for  it  had  been  given, 
but  both  girls  understood  "  the  because "  of 
the  laird's  unexpected  movement.  McNeil  had 
called  it  a  little  pleasure  trip ;  but  no  one  taking 
the  journey  felt  it  to  be  so.  Each  was  leaving 
the  person  or  the  affairs  which  made  the  main 
interest  of  their  lives.  It  was  in  fact  to 
McNeil  a  journey  of  great  self-denial.  The 
herring  fishery  was  at  its  height,  the  gunning 
season  was  at  hand,  and  the  moors  were  alive 
with  birds.  And,  aside  from  these  disappoint 
ments,  he  felt  it  to  be  a  wrong  and  an  outrage 
that  his  own  child  should  have  given  a  strange 
man,  whom  he  despised  and  disliked,  the  power 
to  disarrange  his  household  and  compel  him  to 
leave  his  home  and  his  interests;  for  he  was 
no  more  aware  of  this  injustice  and  indignity 
than  Grizelda  was,  and  it  gave  him  a  heartache 
to  see  that  she  willingly  subjected  him  to  it. 

It  was,  moreover,  soon  evident  that  the  journey 

was  to  be  in  vain.     Grizelda  would  take  no  part 

in  the  life  of  the  metropolis.     Dinners,  dances, 

excursions  had  no   temptations   for   her.     She 

6 


82  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McXEIL. 

declared  that  she  was  ill ;  she  did  not  eat  or 
sleep ;  she  was  cold,  silent,  apathetic,  and  treated 
the  old  friends  and  kindred  of  the  family  with  a 
sullen  indifference  which  gave  great  offence, 
and  which  the  laird,  in  some  cases,  found  it 
beyond  his  power  to  explain  away. 

One  afternoon  he  desired  to  make  a  call  upon 
Lady  McNeil,  the  widow  of  his  second  cousin. 
Grizelda  was  her  namesake ;  it  was  a  matter  of 
the  gravest  courtesy  that  she  should  accompany 
her  father  and  sister.  But  the  wilful  girl  made 
so  many  excuses,  was  so  determined  to  be  dis 
agreeable  and  disappointing,  that  it  was  thought 
best  not  to  insist  upon  her  company. 

For  such  unkind  and  persistent  ill-temper  and 
selfishness  the  Devil  sometimes  rewards  his 
slaves  with  their  own  desires.  Scarcely  had 
McNeil  and  Helen  left  the  door  of  their  hotel, 
when  Lord  Maxwell  passed  it;  Grizelda,  stand 
ing  listlessly  at  the  window,  lifted  her  eyes  and 
saw  him.  His  gaze  was  fixed  upon  her,  he  was 
trying  to  arrest  her  attention.  In  five  minutes 
she  was  by  his  side.  They  turned  into  a  quiet 
square,  and  were  soon  discussing,  almost  merrily, 
the  events  most  interesting  to  them. 

Maxwell  was  delighted  with  the  tactics  pur- 


HER  OWN  WAY.  83 

sued  by  Grizelda.  He  perceived  that  they 
made  him  still  master  of  the  situation.  And  it 
gave  him  an  intense  satisfaction  to  know  that 
he  had  really  driven  the  laird  from  his  home, 
his  fishing  and  his  shooting,  and  all  his  familiar 
interests  and  amusements ;  to  reflect,  also  that 
the  young  laird,  Colin  McNeil,  was  deprived  of 
the  society  of  Helen ;  and  that  Helen  was  taken 
from  her  lover  and  from  all  the  duties  in  the 
castle  and  village  which  interested  her  so  much. 

"  I  think  we  have  had  quite  the  best  of  it, 
Zelda,"  he  said,  with  a  malicious  triumph. 
"  Now,  then,  my  love,  meet  me  to-morrow  morn 
ing  at  ten  o'clock,  in  Saint  Andrew's  Kirk,  and 
I  will  make  you  Lady  Maxwell  in  spite  of  them 
all." 

"  First,  consider  what  I  shall  tell  you,  Walter. 
My  father  says  plainly  that  if  I  marry  without 
his  consent,  eighty  thousand  pounds  in  the  Bank 
of  Scotland  will  every  shilling  of  it  ~o  to  Helen. 
If  he  agrees  to  my  marriage,  Helen  and  Colin 
are  to  have  the  estate  and  twenty  thousand 
pounds,  I  the  residue." 

"  Sixty  thousand  pounds  !     Whew !  " 

"  We  ought  not  to  throw  that  away." 

"  Indeed,  we  ought  not," 


84  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

11  It  is  worth  a  few  words,  Walter ;  and  I  do 
not  like  to  come  to  you  penniless  and  by  stealth. 
Father  is  really  kind-hearted  ;  quickly  in  a  rage, 
but  just  as  quick  to  forgive.  A  little  concilia 
tion  will  win  him." 

"  I  have  already  ordered  my  factor  to  see  his 
factor,  and  pay  whatever  they  decide  to  be  right 
for  those  miserable  sheep  that  were  worried. 
When  you  return  home,  I  will  call  upon  him 
and  ask  for  your  hand.  If  he  consents,  he  can 
scarcely  refuse  your  fortune;  if  he  does  not 
consent  —  " 

"  I  shall  make  his  life  so  wretched  that  he  will 
be  thankful  to  change  his  mind.  It  is  a  very 
hard  thing  if  a  girl  cannot  choose  her  own  hus 
band.  Oh,  my  dear  one,  how  happy  you  have 
made  me !  I  can  endure  all  things  now  till  we 
meet  again." 

There  was  nothing  for  Grizelda  to  endure  but 
the  burdens  she  laid  upon  her  own  shoulders ; 
but  it  pleased  her  to  imagine  herself  an  innocent 
victim  of  parental  oppression  and  unsisterly  lack 
of  sympathy. 

It  was  impossible  for  her  to  remain  long  with 
her  lover;  but  arrangements  were  made  which 
permitted  her  to  meet  him  nearly  every  day, 


HER  OWN  WAY.  85 

for  a  longer  or  a  shorter  time.  And  it  gave  her 
no  compunction  to  save  all  her  smiles,  all  her 
pleasant  ways  and  words  for  her  lover,  and 
darken  all  her  father's  and  sister's  days  with  an 
affectation  of  suffering  which  had  now  no  shadow 
of  existence. 

In  a  week  or  two,  Helen  began  to  suspect  this. 
There  were  times  when  it  was  impossible  for 
Grizelda  to  quite  subdue  the  light  of  expecta 
tion  in  her  eyes,  or  the  dreamy  smile  of  retro 
spective  pleasure  around  her  mouth.  Grizelda 
was  in  the  daily  society  of  Maxwell,  —  Helen  was 
satisfied  of  that;  but  there  was  something  in 
the  girl's  nature  which  forbade  her  to  watch  her 
sister,  no  matter  how  excusable  circumstances 
might  seem  to  make  the  act.  Her  eyes,  indeed, 
questioned  her,  and  Grizelda  was  aware  of  the 
suspicion.  "Things  are  coming  to  a  crisis," 
she  thought,  "  and  I  may  as  well  direct  them." 

One  afternoon,  the  laird,  having  been  sorely 
tried  by  her  contradiction  all  the  morning,  re 
fused  to  go  out  for  his  customary  drive  in  the 
afternoon.  His  heart  failed  him.  He  felt  as  if 
it  were  useless  to  prolong  the  conflict.  The 
very  chivalry  of  his  nature  led  him  to  a  trust 
and  consideration  where  his  daughter  was  con- 


86  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  Me  NEIL. 

cerned  that  he  would  by  no  means  have  con 
ceded  to  a  disobedient  son.  He  could  not 
watch  Grizelda's  movements  and  read  her  letters, 
and  be  stern  and  imperative  with  her.  The  pale, 
silent,  weary-looking  girl  on  the  sofa  appealed 
to  him,  not  only  as  his  daughter,  but  as  one  of 
a  sex  which  demanded  his  courtesy  and  con 
sideration.  He  felt  this  day,  her  injustice,  her 
want  of  appreciation  for  this  courtesy,  and  his 
heart  was  so  sad  that  he  could  not  make  the 
effort  to  face  the  world. 

As  the  time  approached  for  Grizelda  to  keep 
her  tryst,  she  threw  off  her  indifference,  rose 
from  her  sofa,  and  went  to  her  room.  The 
laird  did  not  notice  the  movement,  but  Helen 
followed  her  sister,  She  was  taking  out  her 
bonnet  and  mantle,  and  she  made  no  secret  pf 
her  action. 

"  Are  you  going  out,  Grizelda?  How  pleased 
father  will  be !  It  is  not  yet  too  late  for  a 
drive." 

"  I  am  not  going  to  drive,  and  I  do  not  want 
either  father's  company  or  yours.  I  do  not 
mean  to  be  rude,  Helen,  only  I  must  go  alone." 

"Are  you  going  to  meet  Lord  Maxwell? 
Oh,  Zelda,  I  have  suspected  this !  " 


HER   OWN  WAY.  8/ 

"  Then  your  suspicions  are  correct,  Helen. 
I  am  going  to  meet  my  Walter !  Goodness 
knows,  it  is  all  I  have  to  live  for!  " 

"  You  should  not  say  such  wicked  things. 
You  have  all  that  truest  love  can  give  you. 
But  if  you  are  meeting  Maxwell  here,  father 
ought  to  know.  He  is  pining  for  the  moors 
and  the  sea  and  the  comforts  of  his  own  home. 
He  has  been  denying  himself  for  six  weeks 
everything  he  enjoys,  simply  in  the  hope  that 
he  was  keeping  you  outside  the  influence  of 
a  bad  man." 

"  Then  tell  him  to  go  back  to  Edderloch. 
He  cannot  keep  Lord  Maxwell  from  me  unless 
he  locks  me  up  in  the  castle  strong-room ;  and 
he  cannot  keep  me  from  Lord  Maxwell  if  I 
have  the  wit  and  strength  to  reach  him.  I 
despise  a  girl  who  gives  up  her  lover  because 
her  friends  don't  approve  of  him.  I  would 
die  first !  " 

"  There  is  no  necessity  for  heroics,  Grizelda. 
No  one  asks  you  to  die.  And  don't  you  think 
there  may  be  something  equally  despicable  in 
deceiving  a  good  father,  and  putting  him  to 
daily  anxiety  and  discomfort,  because  your 
lover  does  not  approve  of  him.  Depend  upon 


88  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

it,  father  has  no  intention  of  locking  you  up. 
He  thinks  you  have  chosen  an  unworthy  hus 
band  ;  and  he  would  suffer  a  great  deal  himself 
to  wean  your  heart  from  Lord  Maxwell,  or  to 
show  you  that  there  are  plenty  of  better  lovers 
in  the  world,  but  he  has  no  intention  of  forcing 
you  to  give  him  up." 

"  Then  tell  him  we  may  as  well  go  home. 
It  will  be  more  comfortable  for  every  one." 

This  news  was  more  easily  broken  to  the  laird 
than  Helen  had  dared  to  hope.  Returning  to 
his  presence,  she  found  him  mournfully  watch 
ing  the  gay  throng  which  makes  Princes  Street 
in  the  afternoon  so  fair  a  sight. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  Edderloch,"  he  said,  as 
he  turned  away.  "  I  would  give  something  to 
see  the  great  billows  tumbling  wild  and  high 
and  sending  clouds  of  spray  against  the  castle 
wall,  or  to  be  in  the  shadow  of  the  hills  and  see 
the  little  brown  huts  nestling  there,  and  the 
collie  dogs,  and  flocks  of  sheep  moving  to  and 
fro ;  or  better  still,  to  be  after  the  cock  grouse, 
or  watching  the  red  deer  going  westward  in  a 
swinging  gallop." 

"  Dear  father,  we  may  as  well  go  back  to 
morrow."  Her  face,  troubled  and  pitiful,  told 


HER   OWN  WAY.  89 

him  the  rest.  He  let  his  head  fall  forward  as  he 
asked  in  a  low  voice,  "  Is  he  here?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  she  is  meeting  him?  " 

"  Yes." 

Then  his  soul  forgot  all  words  but  the  mourn 
ful  Gaelic  in  which  his  fathers  had  cried  out  in 
their  sorrow  for  unknown  centuries:  "  Oh!  hon- 
a-ree  /  Oh!  hon-a-ree  !  "  And  upon  his  clasped 
hands  the  tears  dropped  down,  and  Helen  knelt 
at  his  side  and  kissed  them  away. 


CHAPTER  V. 
GRIZELDA'S  MARRIAGE. 

We,  ignorant  of  ourselves, 

Beg  often  our  own  harms,  which  the  wise  powers 
Deny  us  for  our  good. 

SHAKESPEARE. 

'TPHE  journey  home  was  most  unhappy.  The 
-*•  laird  did  not  speak  to  his  refractory 
daughter,  and  she  did  not  appear  to  regret 
a  circumstance  which  gave  her  the  opportunity 
of  feeding  her  heart  upon  her  own  thoughts 
and  dreams.  The  weather  was  stormy,  the 
roads  heavy  and  disagreeable,  and  no  one,  ex 
cept  Grizelda,  had  any  equivalent  for  the  al 
together  wretched  and  useless  journey.  To 
her  it  had  proved  her  lover's  faithfulness.  She 
felt  all  the  triumph  of  the  pursuit;  and  she 
found  a  sufficient  pleasure  in  affecting  sleep 
and  mentally  reviewing  the  fond  words  he  had 
said,  and  the  delightful  plans  for  the  future 
which  they  had  imagined. 


GRIZELDA'S  MARRIAGE.  91 

But  at  length  the  wearisome  trial  was  over. 
McNeil  crossed  his  door-stone  again,  and  looked 
up  at  the  declaration  above  it  with  a  heart  full 
of  gratitude.  The  old  rooms  were  glowing  with 
firelight,  and  bright  with  every  kind  of  com 
fort.  Colin  was  at  hand,  full  of  joy  and  con 
gratulation  ;  the  servants  were  eager  for  a  word 
from  him;  the  shepherds,  the  fishers,  the  vil 
lage  children,  all  tried  to  make  him  understand 
how  welcome  to  his  own  home  and  to  his  own 
people  he  was. 

And  it  was  very  pleasant  to  see  Helen's  de 
light  also  ;  to  watch  her  going  through  the  rooms, 
and  ordering  the  table,  and  re-arranging  their 
lives.  Colin  followed  her  up  and  down,  and 
was  restless  if  the  laird  detained  him.  He  had 
discovered  in  her  absence  how  lonely  his  heart, 
how  desolate  his  home  was  without  her.  He 
felt  that  a  passive  admiration  would  no  longer 
suffice ;  and  he  had  met  her  with  words  that 
sent  a  wave  of  colour  over  her  cheeks  and  filled 
her  eyes  with  a  new  and  sudden  light. 

The  laird  noticed  very  soon  how  constantly 
Colin  was  at  her  side,  how  readily  his  voice 
fell  into  softer  tones  when  he  spoke  to  her, 
how  frequently  he  found  opportunities  of  bend- 


92  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  MCNEIL. 

ing  his  dark,  handsome  head  until  he  could 
almost  have  kissed  the  paler  glory  of  her 
golden-brown  hair.  It  pleased  and  it  pained 
him.  He  was  willing  to  give  Helen  to  Colin, 
but  not  yet,  —  "  not  just  yet,"  he  kept  saying 
to  his  heart. 

In  the  evening  Doctor  Brodick  called,  and  the 
two  men  went  together  into  the  laird's  parlour. 

"  Well,  old  friend,"  said  the  minister,  "  have 
you  brought  good  news  with  you  ? " 

"  It  has  been  a  most  unlucky  journey,  Doctor. 
The  man  followed  us.  She  has  been  meeting 
him,  secretly,  every  day." 

"  Why  did  you  give  her  any  opportunity?" 

"  She  said  she  was  ill.  She  lay  upon  the 
sofa  constantly,  and  it  was  not  likely  I  could 
shut  Helen  up  night  and  day  with  her.  There 
are  McNeils  in  Edinburgh,  and  other  friends 
and  kin,  and  we  had  to  see  them  or  give 
them  an  offence  not  to  be  pardoned  in  this 
generation.  If  the  girl  was  too  ill  to  dine  and 
visit  with  her  own  people,  how  could  I  suspect 
she  would  be  walking  about  the  streets  with 
her  lover?" 

"  Man,  you  are  na  up  to  women-folk.  I  'm 
feared  you  did  not  take  proper  care  of  her." 


GRIZELDA'S  MARRIAGE.  93 

"  Did  you  ever  try  to  guide  a  love-sick  girl 
yourself,  Doctor?  If  you  have  not,  you  know 
nothing  about  it.  For  perfect  unreasonable 
ness,  for  selfishness,  and  deception  they  can 
beat  the  big  Devil  himself.  What  will  I  do 
now?  " 

"  I  '11  tell  you,  Laird.  Deal  openly  with  her. 
Don't  give  her  a  chance  to  deceive  you.  Take 
away  from  her  every  excuse  for  indulging  her 
self  in  any  romancing  folly.  Ask  her  if  she 
is  determined  to  marry  Maxwell.  If  she  says 
she  is,  let  the  man  come  here  and  see  her. 
The  best  half  of  such  love-affairs  as  this  is 
contradiction.  If  Maxwell  means  all  he  has 
said,  give  your  permission  to  what  will  be 
otherwise  taken  without  your  permission.  Of 
course,  Maxwell  would  rather  you  refused  him; 
he  would  like  you  to  order  him  from  your 
presence,  but  I  advise  you  to  disappoint  him. 
For  Grizelda's  sake,  give  him  at  least  a  bare 
civility." 

"  I  cannot  do  it,  Doctor !  I  cannot !  I  cannot 
do  it !  " 

"Think  a  bit,  McNeil.  Look  at  the  very 
worst  side  of  the  man.  He  isna  a  murderer 
or  a  thief  or  an  out-and-out  blackguard  that 


94  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL. 

we  know  of;  he  is  well  born,  he  has  an  es 
tate  in  Galloway  besides  Blairgowrie;  he  is 
made  welcome  at  many  a  grand  house,  and 
rides  and  hunts  with  the  best  men  in  the  neigh 
bourhood;  and  he  goes  regularly  to  kirk,  so 
that  if  he  be  not  good  he  is  at  least  in  the 
way  of  getting  good." 

"  If  he  be  not  good !  When  Kilmory's  shep 
herd  told  him  about  his  dogs  tearing  the  sheep 
on  the  mountains,  he  went  off  into  a  fit  of 
outrageous  laughter.  When  Greenlees  sent  him 
word,  he  cursed  the  messenger,  and  wished 
the  dogs  had  torn  the  men  to  pieces  as  well 
as  the  sheep !  He  never  attempted  to  restrain 
them  until  my  false  daughter  betrayed  my 
threat  to  him.  The  man  has  a  brute's  nature 
—  I  'm  feared  I  am  slandering  the  poor  brutes. 
He  is  naturally  cruel;  he  has  a  stone  instead 
of  a  heart." 

"  But  if  Grizelda  thinks  differently,  what 
then?" 

"  If  Grizelda  be  determined  to  make  her  bed 
in  hell,  and  will  neither  listen  to  advice  nor 
entreaties,  she  must  even  do  so." 

"  Try,  for  her  sake,  to  conquer  your  dislike 
of  Maxwell,  Laird." 


GRIZELDA'S  MARRIAGE.  95 

"  The  feeling  is  beyond  me,  Doctor.  When 
I  can  drink  poison  and  it  not  harm  me,  I  can 
sit  with  Maxwell  and  not  feel  it  to  be  an  in 
sult  and  an  offence.  The  hatred  of  him  is 
back  of  here.  My  soul  is  acquainted  with  his 
soul ;  and  when  my  soul  says  to  me,  '  The  man 
is  a  villain,'  I  know  he  is  one.  I  don't  mind 
if  he  drank  the  holy  cup  every  Sunday,  I  would 
know  it  all  the  same.  You  think  this  is  pure 
prejudice,  Doctor?" 

"  True,  McNeil ;  but  what  we  call  prejudice 
is  often  only  a  veiled  truth,  subtly  adapted  to 
the  nature  that  holds  it,  —  too  fine,  too  compli 
cated,  too  delicate  for  argument  and  definition. 
Have  you  told  Grizelda  of  these  impressions?" 

"  To  be  sure  I  have.  She  only  smiled,  and 
said  it  was  a  pity  I  had  so  much  of  the  mel 
ancholy,  superstitious  nature  of  the  Celt  in  me. 
As  if  I  could  have  too  much  of  the  Celt  in  me ! 
She  is  set  upon  going  her  own  bad  way." 

"  Well,  then,  McNeil,  you  must  trust  God 
to  bring  good  out  of  bad.  Neither  of  us  can 
do  it,  for  the  root  of  Grizelda's  disobedience 
and  folly  is  selfishness ;  and  the  sin  of  selfish 
ness  is  '  the  old  serpent  that  deceiveth  the 
whole  world.'" 


96  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  MCXEIL. 

"  Oh !  Doctor,  I  know  now  how  David  felt 
when  he  cried  out,  '  It  was  thou,  mine  own 
familiar  friend  !  '  It  is  my  child  !  Oh,  Grizelda! 
Grizelda!" 

"  Consider,  Laird,  if  one  heart  has  been  faith 
less  to  you,  there  are  other  hearts  around  you 
full  of  valiant  tendernesses, — hearts  that  know 
how  to  love.  The  earth  might  quake,  the 
heavens  melt,  you  would  still  find  them  true. 
And  though  Grizelda's  affection  has  been  alien 
ated  from  you,  I  do  not  believe  that  any  one 
will  have  the  power  to  destroy  the  grand  prin 
ciples  of  morality  on  which  I  have  helped  you 
to  build  up  her  life.  And  mind  this,  Laird, 
the  one  real,  intolerable  household  ruin  is  not 
that  which  separates  but  that  which  corrupts. 
If  vice  has  not  withered  the  soul  of  the  child, 
the  parents  may  still  say  '  Thank  God !  '  But 
I  must  away,  now,  Laird,  for  I  have  a  night- 
school  to  teach  at  eight  o'clock;  and  the  lads 
and  lasses  would  be  sairly  disappointed  if  I 
were  not  on  hand." 

"  A  night-school !  Such  perfect  nonsense ! 
Selwyn's  order,  is  it?" 

"  Selwyn's  order,  if  it  pleases  you  to  call 
it  so." 


CRIZELDA'S  MARRIAGE.  97 

"  It  docs  not  please  me,  Doctor;  and  I  don't 
think  anybody  will  approve  of  the  kirk  being 
used  for  the  like  of  it  It  is  a  kind  of  dese 
cration,  —  that  is  my  opinion." 

"  I  remembered  that  feeling,  Laird,  and  re 
spected  it.  The  school  is  in  my  ain  house  ;  Kirsty 
is  tossing  her  head  about  it,  but  she  will  have  to 
thole  the  bairns  until  I  get  a  schoolhouse  built." 

"  And  where  will  you  get  the  siller  for  it?  " 

"  I  am  not  just  destitute  of  siller  myself;  and 
I  am  looking  for  help  from  divers,  and  for  land 
from  you." 

"  I  will  not  give  you  enough  to  set  your  feet 
together  on,  Doctor,  for  such  a  purpose." 

"  Ay,  well,  I  am  not  asking  you  to-night. 
When  you  come  to  your  best  self,  Laird,  we 
will  speak  about  it.  God  be  with  you." 

Then  he  wrapped  his  plaid  round  his  breast 
and  left  the  castle.  He  was  tossed  and  troubled 
in  mind  with  the  fretful  worries  and  perplexities 
that  he  shared  with  JMcNeil,  and  they  chilled 
his  enthusiasm  and  made  all  life's  objects  ap 
pear  small  and  irritating.  But  there  is  always 
something  very  impressive  in  passing  from  light 
and  human  society  into  the  dim  spaces  of  the 
night  and  the  solemn  company  of  the  stars, 
7 


98  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  MCNEIL. 

and  ere  he  reached  the  manse  and  the  duty 
he  had  appointed  there,  he  had  quite  recovered 
that  elevation  of  spirit  which  made  it  not  only 
possible,  but  welcome  and  pleasant. 

In  the  morning,  McNeil  sent  for  Grizelda  to 
his  room.  She  had  thought  such  a  summons 
likely,  and  was  prepared  for  it.  Her  resolution 
was  in  her  face,  and  her  face  was  very  hand 
some.  Her  father  had  never  been  more  struck 
with  her  beauty.  She  had  the  air  of  a  princess, 
and  her  robe  of  dark  cloth,  falling  in  straight, 
heavy  folds  to  her  feet,  clothed  her  with  grace 
and  dignity. 

"  Sit  down,  Grizelda.  I  want  you  to  tell  me 
truly  if  you  have  resolved  to  take  Lord  Maxwell 
in  place  of  your  father,  your  sister,  and  your 
home." 

"I  have  determined  to  marry  Lord  Maxwell." 

"  Then  tell  him  to  come  here  when  he  wishes 
to  see  you.  The  drawing-room  is  at  your  dis 
posal.  Only  farm  servants  trapse  about  the 
moor  and  lean  over  gates  and  fences." 

"  Do  you  mean,  father,  that  you  give  your 
consent  to  our  marriage?" 

"  I  mean  that  I  submit  to  the  evil  that  you 
force  upon  me." 


GRIZE IDA'S  MARRIAGE.  99 

"  Father,  I  love  Lord  Maxwell." 

"  Once  you  loved  me.  Oh,  Grizelda,  mar 
riage  is  such  a  solemn  thing !  It  is  so  easy  to 
marry;  but  to  get  unmarried!  what  suffering 
must  precede  it!  what  shame  must  be  associ 
ated  with  it !  " 

"  I  shall  never  wish  to  be  unmarried.  I  know 
Lord  Maxwell  as  others  do  not." 

She  looked  at  him  a  little  entreatingly  and  a 
little  defiantly;  she  looked  so  like  her  dead 
mother  that  his  heart  melted.  He  had  put  out 
his  hand,  took  her  hand,  drew  her  to  his  side 
and  kissed  her.  "  Will  you  wait  one  year,  my 
child,  —  only  one  year?  It  is  all  I  will  ask 
you." 

"  Maxwell  wishes  to  be  married  at  Christmas. 
He  is  going  to  take  me  to  London.  Lady  Mary 
Maxwell  will  present  me  at  court." 

"  You  seem  to  have  settled  all  without  me. 
That  is  not  the  way  a  gentleman  seeks  a  wife, 
Grizelda.  I  have  a  right  to  be  consulted.  My 
right  is  older  than  any  one's;  stronger  than 
any  one's." 

"  You  are  so  prejudiced  against  Maxwell, 
father.  Of  course,  he  will  see  you  if  you  give 
him  permission." 


IOO  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  MCNEIL. 

41  Tell  him  to  call  on  me.  There  are  business 
considerations  in  your  marriage  that  must  be 
attended  to.  I  want  to  know  what  settlement 
he  proposes  to  make  upon  you.  A  daughter  of 
the  McNeil  cannot  be  married  like  a  milking- 
maid."  He  glanced  into  her  face.  Her  eyes 
were  cast  down,  but  a  beautiful  light  stole  from 
under  their  dropped  lids,  and  a  soft  smile  lin 
gered  about  her  mouth.  Her  whole  attitude 
was  that  of  a  girl  thinking  of  her  lover  with 
trust  and  expectation. 

But  the  father's  heart  was  full  of  trouble  that 
he  hardly  understood,  it  was  compacted  of 
elements  so  diverse.  From  twenty  years  of  love, 
memory  seemed  to  instantly  reproduce  every 
scene  that  was  tenderest  and  sweetest ;  and  Lord 
Maxwell  intruded  himself  as  their  defacer  and 
destroyer.  He  had  a  sense,  also,  of  being  un 
justly  treated  in  the  matter,  which  was  almost 
harder  to  bear  than  his  slighted  affection.  For 
the  first  time  in  her  life,  Grizelda  saw  his  face 
lose  every  particle  of  colour;  and  his  hands 
trembled  so  violently  that  the  paper-knife  he 
had  been  holding  fell  from  them. 

"  Are  you  sick,  dear  father?  "  She  looked 
anxiously  at  him  as  he  shook  his  head  in  de- 


GRIZELDA'S  MARRIAGE.  IOI 

nial.  But  he  put  his  elbow  on  the  table,  and 
for  several  minutes  rested  his  head  in  his  hand. 
Grizelda  stood  motionless  beside  him.  She  felt 
severely  the  pain  she  was  giving.  She  had  a 
momentary  intention  of  resigning  her  will  to 
his  will ;  but  ere  she  could  decide  between  her 
father  and  her  lover,  McNeil  rose  and  went  to 
his  desk.  Grizelda  knew  the  book  which  he 
took  from  it. 

"Grizelda,  a  girl  wants  clothes, — wedding 
clothes  ;  I  don  't  know  how  much  money.  Here 
is  a  check  for  six  hundred  pounds ;  if  it  is  not 
enough,  tell  Helen  to  come  to  me  for  more. 
Get  all  that  is  necessary  to  your  position.  You 
have  not  much  time  before  Christmas." 

He  spoke  slowly,  and  with  a  depression  that 
weighted  every  word  as  with  lead.  And  sud 
denly  it  seemed  to  Grizelda  as  if  a  wall  had 
been  built  between  him  and  her;  she  wished 
to  kiss  and  thank  him  for  his  consideration, 
but  the  cold  despair  of  his  attitude  was  too 
discouraging. 

And  the  piece  of  paper  in  her  hands  re 
proached  her.  Yet  why?  She  asked  herself 
the  question  over  and  over,  with  an  almost 
angry  defiance;  she  was  only  doing  what  other 


102  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  Me  NEIL. 

girls  did.  And  of  his  own  free  will,  perhaps 
only  for  the  satisfaction  of  his  own  family  pride 
and  honour,  had  he  given  her  the  money  at  all. 
She  clung  to  this  last  idea,  and  carefully  nursed 
it;  for  when  a  girl  is  bent  on  a  course  of  in 
gratitude  and  selfishness,  the  first  thing  the 
Devil  teaches  her  is  to  debase  all  the  past  love 
which  she  is  violating,  and  to  find  for  every  for 
bearance  and  every  kindness  a  selfish  motive. 

The  following  day  Lord  Maxwell  had  an  in 
terview  with  the  laird.  They  met  with  a  deter 
mination  on  both  sides  to  think  the  best  of  each 
other.  McNeil,  for  his  daughter's  sake,  wished 
to  do  so ;  and  Maxwell  was  not  inclined  to  in 
dulge  his  temper  at  the  price  of  the  sixty  thou 
sand  pounds  which  might  otherwise  be  Grizelda's 
fortune.  Neither  was  he  so  much  in  love  as  to 
be  financially  over-generous  in  the  matter  of 
future  provision  for  his  wife.  McNeil's  question 
as  to  the  settlement  which  he  intended  to  make 
on  her,  was  promptly  met  with  one  as  to  the 
fortune  he  intended  to  give  Grizelda. 

"  I  am  not  prepared  to  say  what  I  shall  give 
Grizelda,"  was  the  answer.  "  You  are  aware, 
my  lord,  that  my  consent  to  her  marriage  has 
been  in  a  manner  forced  from  me.  When  I  am 


GRIZELDA'S  MARRIAGE.  1 03 

satisfied  that  it  is  a  good  marriage  and  a  happy 
one,  I  will  amply  provide  for  your  wife  and  her 
possible  heirs.  Until  then,  I  shall  keep  her 
money  where  I  can  put  my  own  hands 
upon  it." 

"  Then,  McNeil,  you  can  hardly  expect  me 
to  make  any  settlement  of  my  property  on 
her." 

"  I  cannot  say  that  I  did  expect  it.  It  would 
have  supposed  a  very  unusual  generosity,  and 
an  affection  quite  beyond  money  considerations, 
—  a  thing  not  to  be  looked  for." 

"  Suppose,  then,  we  leave  money  considera 
tions  until  you  consider  our  affection  thoroughly 
tested.  What  lapse  of  time  is  your  idea  of  a 
trial?" 

He  spoke  with  a  slow  insolence  which  he 
found  it  impossible  to  controul.  But,  though 
McNeil's  eyes  flashed,  he  answered  with  a  calm 
precision,  which  left  no  doubt  of  his  sincerity: 

"If  at  the  end  of  five  years  Grizelda  is  a 
happy  wife,  willing  to  trust  in  your  honour  and 
rely  on  your  love,  I  will  give  her  sixty  thousand 
pounds ;  at  my  death  there  may  be  more." 

Maxwell  rose  at  the  words.  His  first  impulse 
was  to  leave  the  castle  and  never  see  Grizelda 


104  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL. 

again ;  but  a  faint  flicker  of  satisfaction  on 
McNeil's  face  roused  a  suspicion  in  his  heart 
which  made  him  determine  to  marry  Grizelda, 
no  matter  what  came  after  it. 

"  He  intended  to  frighten  me  away,  and  then 
preach  to  Grizelda  about  my  unvvorthiness ;  to 
boast  to  every  petty  sheep-raising  laird  around 
of  the  way  in  which  he  saved  his  child  from  me. 
He  shall  not  do  it.  I  will  marry  the  girl !  " 

These  thoughts  flashed  through  his  mind 
even  as  he  rose  to  his  feet.  They  helped  him 
to  keep  his  words  and  actions  under  controul, 
and  he  asked,  with  a  civility  that  astonished 
himself:  "  I  have  now,  then,  your  permission 
to  see  Grizelda?" 

"  You  have  my  permission,  Maxwell." 

And  in  giving  this  permission,  McNeil  was 
chivalrous  and  honourable  enough  to  give  all 
that  appertained  to  it.  It  included  the  courtesy 
of  the  whole  household,  and  even  a  seeming 
interest  in  the  necessary  preparations  for  the 
marriage.  Fortunately  the  strain  was  as  great 
upon  Maxwell  as  upon  the  McNeil  family.  He 
was  anxious  to  shorten  it  as  much  as  possi 
ble,  and  Christmas  eve  was  selected  by  him  for 
the  ceremony.  McNeil  had  objections  to  the 


GRIZELDA'S  MARRIAGE.  1 05 

time,  but  he  did  not  make  them;  the  main 
thing  in  his  mind  being  to  keep  the  strained 
attitude  of  all  parties  at  the  point  of  courtesy 
and  politeness. 

Colin  wisely  passed  a  great  deal  of  the  time 
in  a  visit  to  Edinburgh.  The  Edinburgh 
McNeils  had  to  be  told  of  the  intended  mar 
riage,  and  they  were  quite  pleased  with  it. 
They  looked  fonvard  with  satisfaction  to  their 
relationship  with  Lady  Maxwell.  Her  house  in 
London  would  be  a  nice  place  to  call  at,  and  to 
talk  about.  And  Colin  did  not  think  it  neces 
sary  to  say  anything  against  the  young  lord. 
Indeed,  he  was  rather  Inclined  to  think  that  but 
scant  justice  had  been  done  him.  He  told 
Helen  that  he  could  understand  how  a  man 
might  passionately  side  with  his  dogs  even 
against  his  sense  of  what  was  right;  and 
otherwise  he  thought  Maxwell  a  gentlemanly 
fellow  enough.  He  wished  the  laird  could  see 
that  Grizelda  was  doing  very  well ;  and  he  pri 
vately  had  little  opinion  of  dislikes  and  impres 
sions  which  had  no  tangible  cause  to  rest  upon. 
Presentiments  of  any  kind  belonged  to  a  by 
gone  age. 

So  the  few  intervening  v/eeks  went  over  with 


106  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

at  least  an  apparent  placidity.  Helen  was  the 
sweet  spirit  who  kept  peace  on  every  hand. 
She  told  the  laird  whatever  could  give  him 
pleasure  or  confidence;  she  hid  from  him  all 
likely  to  breed  suspicion  or  dislike.  She  kept 
|the  men  apart  when  there  was  an  atmosphere 
unfavourable  to  conciliation.  She  put  Grizelda 
in  every  light  that  was  charming  to  both 
her  father  and  her  lover;  unconsciously  she 
was  hourly  practising  those  numberless  inno 
cent  hypocrisies  of  love,  which  prevent  many 
a  domestic  quarrel,  and  make  every  one 
satisfied  with  themselves  and  affectionate  to 
others. 

They  were  happy  weeks  to  Grizelda.  The 
very  hurry  that  was  necessary  in  order  to  pro 
cure  her  wardrobe  gave  her  a  sense  of  de 
lightful  occupation.  Beautiful  garments  were 
constantly  arriving;  and  as  the  wedding-day 
approached,  the  castle  began  to  fill  with  guests. 
The  McNeils  were  a  great  clan,  and  all  the 
heads  of  the  different  branches  had  to  be 
invited. 

And  the  laird,  in  the  presence  of  such  a 
gathering  of  his  family,  began  to  have  some 
Vmeasy  feelings  about  Grizelda's  fortune.  He 


GRIZELDA'S  MARRIAGE.  IO/ 

had  no  doubt  that  many  of  them  would  ask  him 
straight  questions  on  the  subject.  It  would  be 
very  humiliating  to  confess  that  he  had  given 
her  nothing.  The  reason  would  be  inquired 
for,  and  how  could  he  say  that  he  had  been  led 
to  this  extraordinary  caution  by  Maxwell's  un 
feeling  or  ungentlemanly  conduct  about  a  few 
sheep,  or  by  his  own  fixed  conviction  of  the 
man's  cruel  and  dishonourable  character? 

"  Doctor,  what  will  I  do  in  the  premises?  "  he 
asked  one  day,  when  the  subject  pressed  him 
closely. 

"You  have  done  right,  McNeil.  What  will 
you  want  to  undo  it  for?" 

"  Folk  will  ask  questions." 

"  You  have  not  such  a  small  measure  of 
capacity  as  to  fear  a  few  old  men  and  women 
asking  questions.  You  have  done  right.  Then 
do  not  undo  it." 

Still,  at  the  last  he  was  induced  to  give  more 
than  he  intended.  Partly  his  action  was  a 
spontaneous  outgrowth  of  purest  love,  partly 
it  was  the  result  of  a  foolish  pride  which  could 
not  suffer  itself  to  be  put  in  a  secondary  place. 
It  happened  very  naturally  that  Lord  Maxwell, 
subjected  constantly  to  Grizelda's  many  charms, 


108  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF 

became  deeply  in  love  with  her;  and  to  gratify 
his  passionate  admiration  of  her  beauty,  he 
presented  her  with  many  beautiful  ornaments. 
It  gave  him  delight  to  clasp  his  shining  brace 
lets  on  her  lovely  arms,  and  kiss  the  brilliant 
locket  around  her  white  throat,  and  gem  her 
fingers  with  rings,  and  pin  up  her  hair  with  gold 
and  coral.  And  yet,  as  a  secondary  pleasure, 
he  was  not  unconscious  that  he  enjoyed  show 
ing  McNeil  he  could  adorn  Grizelda  as  she 
had  never  been  adorned  before.  McNeil  was 
aware  of  this  feeling  (it  may  be  doubted  if 
Maxwell  had  ever  a  mean  thought  of  which 
McNeil  was  not  aware);  and  he  watched  Gri- 
zelda's  pride  and  excitement  over  her  lover's 
gifts  until  a  certain  intention  gradually  took  form 
in  his  mind.  He  did  not  speak  of  it;  he  did  not 
put  it  into  action  until  Grizelda  came  to  him  on 
Christmas  eve  in  all  her  bridal  beauty.  Full 
of  pride  and  joy,  she  tapped  lightly  at  the 
locked  door,  as  she  said, — 

"  Father !  " 

He  opened  to  her  at  once.  He  was  already 
dressed  for  the  ceremony,  and  she  was  as  much 
struck  with  his  noble  appearance  as  he  was 
with  her  own  surpassing  loveliness.  He  held 


GRIZELDA'S  MARRIAGE.  109 

her  hands,  and  looked  with  an  inexpressible 
affection  at  the  white-robed  girl.  She  glistened 
in  white  satin  and  lace ;  she  carried  orange 
blossoms  and  mistletoe  in  her  hand ;  her  eyes 
shone  with  love  and  happiness;  her  face  was 
like  a  young  rose  with  the  summer  sunshine 
on  it. 

"  My  sweet  Grizelda  !     My  dear  child  !  " 

"  Father,  you  will  not  cease  to  love  me?  " 

"  Never,  while  I  live." 

"  Will  you  forgive  me  to-night  all  my  dis 
obedience  to  you?  I  am  sorry  for  it." 

"  I  will  forgive  you,  freely." 

"Will  you  try  and  love  Walter?  " 

"  I  will  try  —  for  your  sake." 

"  For  his  own  sake,  dear  father?  " 

"  Yes,  I  will  try,  if  he  is  good  and  kind  to  you0" 

"  He  is  sure  to  be  good  to  me,  I  do  not  fear." 

"  Grizelda,  this  is  my  bride  present  to  you." 
He  opened  some  cases,  and  took  from  them 
a  necklace  and  pendant  of  diamonds  and  sap 
phires,  a  bracelet,  a  ring  for  her  finger,  and  a 
comb  for  her  hair  of  the  same  brilliant  gems. 
"  Part  of  these  I  bought  for  your  mother,  Gri 
zelda;  part  of  them  I  have  bought  purposely 
for  you." 


HO  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

"  Oh,  my  father,  how  good  you  are  to  me !  — 
how  kind !  " 

"  I  mean  to  be  so ;  truly,  I  mean  to  be  kind 
to  you  in  all  things.  God  knows  I  do !  " 

Then  he  kissed  her,  and  put  the  jewels  in  her 
hand.  In  his  heart  there  was  a  great  struggle 
of  feeling ;  but  amid  all,  he  was  pleased  to  see 
Grizelda  shining  in  gems  that  dwarfed  all  of 
Maxwell's  gifts.  For,  in  spite  of  his  promise  to 
try  and  love  him  for  kis  daughter's  sake,  he 
did  not  like  or  trust  him  one  bit  better;  and 
though  he  heard  him  vow,  in  the  presence  of 
God  and  the  gathered  clan  of  McNeil,  to  love 
and  cherish  Grizelda,  he  did  not  believe  in  him, 
—  he  never  for  a  moment  believed  in  him. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  MCNEIL'S  WORK. 

Wise  men  ne'er  sit  and  wail  their  loss, 

But  cheerly  seek  how  to  redress  their  harms. 

SHAKESPEARE. 

Find  something  to  do.   The  power  to  find  or  make  an  object 

is  a  great  part  of  genius. 

MALLOCK. 

Life  does  not  make  us  :  we  make  life. 

J.  KAVANAGH. 

THE  best  remedy  for  injuries  is  to  forget 
them.  After  Grizelda,  with  all  her  charms 
and  all  her  faults,  had  left  her  home,  every  one 
made  the  effort  not  only  to  hope  to  the  utmost 
for  her  happiness,  but  also  to  forget  every  un 
pleasant  circumstance  and  suspicion  connected 
with  Lord  Maxwell.  He  had  shown  his  most 
plausible  side  to  Colin,  and  Colin  had  an  apol 
ogy  or  a  good  word  always  ready  for  him. 
And  it  was  but  natural  that  Helen  should,  in 
a  measure,  echo  Colin's  thoughts,  especially 
when  her  own  kind  heart  and  her  hopes  for  her 


112  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF 

sister's  happiness  made  it  wise  and  desirable 
to  do  so. 

The  laird  said  nothing  contrary  to  this  tone, 
and  he  appeared  to  enter  into  the  pleasure  and 
triumph  of  Grizelda's  London  life  with  great 
interest.  He  had,  in  fact,  made  a  compact  with 
himself  to  give  Maxwell  perfect  justice  in  all 
repects.  So  in  this  amicable  tone  the  castle 
settled  down  to  its  new  conditions.  For  half 
a  year,  life  in  it  had  seemed  like  a  restless 
dream.  Different  elements  had  crept  into  each 
new  day,  and  nothing  had  gone  on  in  that  regu 
lar  manner  which  alone  gives  the  feeling  of 
security  and  permanence. 

But  very  soon  a  happy  placid  monotony  be 
came  the  rule  of  daily  events.  Peace  and  order 
reigned  undisputed ;  the  morning  and  the  even 
ing  came,  each  with  its  own  quiet  meal  and 
happy  conversation.  The  pleasant  rooms  shone 
in  the  firelight  or  the  sunlight,  or  gained  a  ten 
fold  comfort  by  the  beating  of  the  rain  and  the 
howling  of  the  stormy  winds  outside. 

Or,  when  the  weather  was  fine  and  clear, 
McNeil  and  the  young  laird  spent  the  day  upon 
the  hills,  and  came  home  at  night  happily 
weaned,  with  bags  full  of  birds,  with  hunters' 


THE  MCNEIL'S   WORK.  113 

hearty  appetites,  and  scraps  of  country-side 
gossip.  And  so  for  a  few  weeks  the  sweet 
monotony  of  a  happily  ordered  home  went  on, 
and  in  it  every  one  gathered  strength. 

Toward  the  end  of  February,  McNeil  began 
to  contemplate  again  the  plans  for  a  more  ac 
tive  life  which  had  occupied  his  thoughts  at 
intervals  during  the  past  five  years;  and  one 
morning,  after  a  long  storm,  when  the  gray  at 
mosphere  was  still  full  of  misty  rain,  and  the 
beach  or  the  hills  not  to  be  thought  of,  he 
called  Colin  into  his  room. 

"  Colin,"  he  said,  "  I  think  we  are  both 
ready  for  work ;  if  you  are,  I  am." 

"  I  shall  be  glad  of  it." 

"  It  is  the  only  thing  of  which  a  man  does 
not  weary.  I  have  already  said  something  to 
you  anent  my  plans.  They  have  been  growing 
to  perfection  without  any  care  of  mine,  but  they 
are  ripe  for  the  working  now;  and  if  we  do  not 
turn  events  into  gold,  others,  and  perhaps 
strangers,  will  do  so." 

"  Count  on  me  to  be  your  right  hand, 
uncle." 

"  I  do  that,  Colin.  Well,  on  the  steep  bluff 
we  call  Britta,  I  propose  to  build  a  fine  summer 
8 


114  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  MCNEIL. 

hot*  1.  The  travellers  up  the  Crinan  Canal  will 
fill  it.  For  the  past  three  years,  thousands  have 
turned  aside  to  visit  the  grand  waterfalls  and 
lovely  valleys  in  the  vicinity.  Artists  have 
camped  there,  bringing  their  own  tents;  and 
sportsmen  have  sheltered  themselves  in  the 
shepherds'  huts  near  by,  for  the  salmon  and 
trout  fishing  in  the  small  estuaries  from  Loch 
Fine  is  wonderful.  And  I  have  encouraged  all 
these  visitors,  until  the  place  is  already  well 
known." 

"  But  you  cannot  keep  an  hotel,  uncle ;  it  is 
a  business  by  itself." 

"  I  am  not  such  a  fool,  Colin,  as  to  think  I 
can.  Forbye,  the  McNeil  cannot  do  anything 
so  mechanical  and  tradesmanlike.  It  is  an  in 
vestment  to  me.  Others  will  do  the  labour. 
It  would  be  an  insult  to  the  living  and  the  dead 
if  the  McNeil  was  to  put  himself  in  the  way  of 
serving  strangers  for  money." 

"  Then,  if  you  are  the  real  proprietor,  and 
some  other  man  the  active  one,  are  you  not 
afraid  of  being  wronged?" 

"  No,  I  am  not.  They  will  be  cleverer  rogues 
than  have  yet  been  born  if  they  wrong  me. 
When  I  have  money  out,  I  mostly  know  what 


THE  MCNEIL'S    WORK.  11$ 

every  penny  of  it  is  doing.  Admitting  this, 
what  do  you  think  of  the  scheme?" 

"  I  think  very  well  of  it.  McLean  has  built 
such  an  hotel  on  Loch  Scredon,  and  he  is  grow 
ing  rich  on  the  revenue  from  it.  MacLeod  has 
one  in  Harris,  and  Mackenzie  in  Lewis ;  I  do 
not  see  why  McNeil  should  not  have  one  in 
Knapdale.  I  shall  be  delighted  to  help  you 
in  every  way  that  I  can." 

"  Thank  you,  Colin.  I  am  a  happy  man  to 
have  a  helper  like  you.  First,  there  will  be  an 
architect  to  see." 

"We  can  get  a  good  one  in  Glasgow;  and 
in  Glasgow  I  can  always  hire  whatever  men 
are  necessary." 

"  Diggers  and  delvers  are  the  first  necessity. 
But  as  these  men  must  have  shelter,  stone 
masons  are  wanted.  There  is  plenty  of  mate 
rials  for  them.  We  might  build  about  a  dozen 
cottages  not  far  from  the  hotel  site.  They  will 
form  the  nucleus  for  the  village,  —  ay,  the 
town,  —  which  will  be  certain  to  spring  up 
there."  | 

"  I  will  go  about  the  work  to-morrow  if  you 
wish." 

"  I  do.     You  are  all  I  hoped  for,  Colin.     One 


Il6  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

hand  washes  the  other ;  and  it  is  a  sign  of  pros 
perity  when  the  men  in  a  house  can  work  out 
one  scheme  together.  And  there  are  other 
godsends  at  our  door,  Colin,  such  as  the  lobster 
fishery,  for  which  the  market  is  just  extraordi 
nary;  and  I  am  going  to  have  a  small  fleet  of 
boats  to  carry  them  to  Glasgow.  The  catching 
of  them  and  the  carrying  of  them  to  market  will 
make  a  grand  winter  industry  for  the  men.  I  '11 
give  an  invite  to  all  honest  idle  men  around 
about,  and  I  '11  be  doing  good  to  myself  and  to 
others." 

After  this  conversation  there  was  no  lack  of 
vivid  enterprise  in  McNeil  Castle.  Colin  was 
going  and  coming  continually,  and  the  laird 
appeared  to  have  grown  ten  years  younger. 
His  bold  and  yet  cautious  enterprise  was  splen 
didly  backed  by  Colin's  enthusiasm  and  physical 
endurance;  and  in  a  few  weeks  the  work  had 
been  well  begun. 

And  time  passes  rapidly  that  is  filled  with 
labour.  The  spring  opened  to  the  sound  of  the 
pick  and  the  hammer,  and  there  was  an  air  of 
hope  and  prosperity,  and  a  sense  of  business 
that  admitted  of  no  lazy  intervals,  about  the 
little  hamlet.  It  made  the  staid  old  fishers 


THE  MCNEIL'S    WORK.  1 1  / 

shake  their  heads  and  wonder  mournfully  what 
the  world  and  the  McNeil  were  coming  to. 

As  the  summer  grew  and  the  work  went 
busily  on,  the  laird  was  like  another  person. 
Nature  had  given  him  all  the  qualities  neces 
sary  for  a  leader  or  director  of  large  bodies  of 
men.  His  presence  was  felt  everywhere.  His 
gigantic  form  stood  like  a  tower  among  the 
bowed  workers.  His  clear,  resonant  voice, 
commanding,  directing,  encouraging,  was  the 
one  distinct  tone  in  the  babel  of  tongues,  the 
chip,  chip  of  the  stone-masons,  the  ring  of 
the  trowels,  and  the  sounds  of  the  hammers 
and  saws. 

Colin  was  his  lieutenant.  He  was  nearly 
always  on  the  move.  The  change  of  workers, 
the  constant  need  for  material,  or  directions  not 
remembered  until  the  necessity  demanded  them, 
the  money  transactions  incident  to  the  enter 
prise  were  all  dependent  upon  him ;  so  that  the 
drowsy  old  castle  was  now  ever  on  the  lookout 
or  the  preparation,  —  Colin  was  going  away,  or 
Colin  was  coming  home ;  the  architect  from 
Glasgow  was  making  his  regular  inspection,  or 
Mr.  Balfour,  the  writer  from  Edinburgh,  who 
had  a  share  in  the  investment,  was  paying  a 


1 1 8  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  MCNEIL. 

visit  to  the  laird  to  consult  or  advise  with  him 
as  to  the  progress  of  the  work. 

And  this  change  in  the  business  life  of  Ed- 
derloch  was  met  by  one  equally  great  in  its 
social  and  domestic  aspects.  The  minister,  in 
his  way,  was  as  full  of  fresh  interests  as  the  laird. 
He  had  been  brought  suddenly  into  contact 
with  a  new  and  perplexing  kind  of  parishioners, 
and  put  face  to  face  with  the  very  duties  which 
he  had  discussed  theoretically  with  George 
Selwyn. 

Colin  had  made  it  a  special  condition  in  all 
the  workmen  brought  from  Glasgow  that  they 
should  be  Protestants.  It  was,  indeed,  a  piece 
of  practical  wisdom  to  insist  on  this  point,  for 
the  neighbouring  lairds  would  have  opposed  the 
introduction  of  a  Roman  Catholic  element  and 
an  adverse  nationality  into  their  quiet  villages 
and  pastures ;  and  between  it  and  the  indigenous 
race,  fierce  quarrels  would  certainly  have  sprung 
up,  not  only  retarding  the  work,  but  also  bring 
ing  it  into  bad  repute. 

But,  for  all  that,  they  were  very  different 
Protestants  from  the  grave,  mystical  Calvinists 
who  gathered  in  Brodick's  kirk  every  Sabbath 
day  from  the  sheep-folds  and  the  boats.  Those 


THE  MCNEIL'S  WORK.  1 19 

of  them  who  really  cared  for  their  religion  were 
usually  from  Ayrshire  and  Galloway,  and  had 
an  old  Covenanting  rebelliousness  about  them. 
And  they  carried  the  almost  inevitable  demo 
cratic  tendency  of  Calvinism  to  its  extreme 
outcome  of  radicalism.  They  disputed  with 
Doctor  Brodick  on  church  government,  and 
they  sang  Robert  Burns's  most  democratic  songs 
in  the  McNeil's  very  presence.  They  were  also 
vulgar  and  quarrelsome.  The  poorest  High 
land  gillie  on  the  hills  had  a  vein  of  poetry  in 
his  nature ;  but  these  men  from  the  Glasgow 
pavements  were  painfully  matter-of-fact.  They 
could  not  even  understand  a  courtesy  unless  it 
took  the  form  of  a  glass  of  whiskey. 

The  problem  which  they  presented  to  Brodick 
was  one  to  which  he  bent  his  whole  nature.  He 
understood  now  why  George  Selvvyn  had  been 
sent  to  speak  to  him ;  and  he  answered  the  call 
he  believed  himself  to  have  received,  with  a 
cheerful  alacrity,  a  glad  "  Here  I  am,  Lord," 
that  had  in  it  not  only  the  wisdom  of  age,  but 
the  enthusiasm  of  youth. 

And  what  Colin  was  to  the  laird,  Helen  was 
to  the  minister.  They  took  sweet  counsel  to 
gether  ;  they  encouraged  one  another  when  diffi- 


I2O  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL. 

culties  sprang  up;  they  worked  hand  in  hand 
for  the  tangible  welfare  of  the  people,  whom 
they  accepted  as  God's  special  charge  to  them. 
In  many  respects  it  was  impossible  to  do  much 
without  the  laird's  consent.  He  owned  all  the 
land ;  he  was  a  master  no  one  dared  to  disobey. 
But  he  was  not  able  to  resist  Helen ;  sooner  or 
later  she  won  from  him  whatever  was  desired. 

Thus  the  summer  passed  rapidly  away,  and 
in  October  six  new  lobster-boats,  with  all  their 
traps  and  tongs,  etc.,  were  launched.  They 
brought  nearly  twenty  new  families  to  Edder- 
loch,  and  the  utmost  capacities  of  the  village 
were  needed  to  shelter  them.  The  new  cottages 
had  been  severely  denounced  by  Brodick.  He 
pointed  out  to  the  laird  how  they  disregarded 
all  the  laws  of  health,  and  were,  in  fact,  just  as 
barbarous  as  those  which  the  McNeils  had  built 
three  or  four  centuries  ago.  But  the  men  them 
selves  were  with  McNeil  and  against  change, 
and  Brodick  then  understood  what  Selwyn  had 
often  told  him,  — 

"  You  will  have  to  teach  men  what  is  good 
for  their  bodies  as  well  as  their  souls ;  and  the 
latter  is  far  more  dependent  on  the  former  than 
most  ministers  like  to  admit." 


THE  MCNEIL'S   WORK.  121 

As  the  first  natural  result  of  the  increase  of 
population,  the  Change  House  was  enlarged; 
and  before  the  winter  was  over,  a  rival  one  had 
been  opened.  "  The  Devil  is  a  busy  bishop  in 
his  parish,"  said  Brodick  to  the  laird,  when  the 
subject  was  named;  "but  there  is  one  good 
offset  against  it,  —  the  men  are  mostly  very  well 
pleased  to  learn  something.  It  is  wonderful  how 
many  of  them  come  at  night  for  the  schooling 
they  never  had  before." 

"  Humph  !  " 

"  I  have  men  forty  years  old,  Laird,  as  eager 
as  bairns  for  knowledge ;  and  I  tell  you,  McNeil, 
it  was  a  good  thought  to  turn  the  manse  barn 
into  a  warm  room  for  them.  When  the  lessons 
are  over  and  the  children  gone  home,  I  ask  the 
men  to  take  out  their  pipes  and  gather  about 
the  fire  and  talk  with  me.  And  they  have  a 
wonderful  natural  capacity  for  argument." 

"  You  need  not  tell  me  that,  Doctor.  I  know 
it  to  my  sorrow,  and  I  wish  you  would  not  en 
courage  it.  They  dispute  over  everything, — 
my  own  orders  as  well  as  the  rest.  I  don't 
approve  of  these  night-schools,  —  specially  for 
workingmen.  They  are  a  wrong  to  me;  men 
cannot  work  all  day  and  study  at  night.  Some 


122  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  MCNEIL. 

one  's  right  is  wronged,  and  1  'm  thinking  it  is 
mine." 

"  If  they  werena  in  the  school-room,  they 
would  be  in  the  Change  House,  Laird.  Which 
is  the  better?  " 

The  laird  thought  in  his  heart  that  the  whiskey 
would  be  more  to  his  interest  than  the  books, 
but  he  did  not  say  so ;  there  was  something  in 
Brodick's  face  which  restrained  him.  Yet  he 
continued  his  complaint  in  that  half-hectoring 
way  that  always  hides  the  white  feather  some 
where  beneath  it,  until  the  minister  said 
solemnly, — 

"  McNeil,  it  seems  to  be  your  work  to  make 
money.  It  is  my  work  to  save  souls.  Our 
roads  are  so  far  apart  that  we  need  not  run 
against  each  other  unless  we  try  to." 

"  But  I  do  not  like  the  way  you  are  doing  your 
work,  that  is  all,  Doctor.  I  don't  like  the  way." 

"  Mammon  never  did  like  God's  ways.  There 
is  a  very  old  disagreement  between  them." 

"  A  man  has  a  right  to  consider  his  own  wel 
fare,  Brodick.  I  am  justified  in  that." 

"  Just  so,  McNeil ;  but  a  man's  welfare  should- 
na  be  more  to  him  than  the  two  tables  of  the 
law  and  the  four  gospels." 


THE  MCNEIL'S   WORK.  123 

McNeil  had  determined  at  that  very  hour  to 
speak  to  Doctor  Brodick  about  his  workers, 
but  he  was  not  able  to  make  a  stronger  stand 
than  this;  for  there  was  something  imperial 
about  the  man  when  he  took  his  stand  by  the 
humblest  altar  of  his  duty.  And  besides,  a  dim 
fear  crept  into  the  laird's  heart  that  Brodick 
might  say  something  to  him  which  would  make 
him  feel  uncomfortable.  It  was,  upon  the  whole, 
better  that  both  the  minister  and  his  conscience 
should  be  quiet  at  present. 

And  yet,  perhaps,  the  sorest  point  in  this 
interference  of  Brodick's  was  Helen.  He  had 
been  too  busy  as  yet  to  interfere  with  their 
alliance,  but  he  promised  himself  he  would  do 
so  very  soon.  Helen  McNeil  nursing  sick  child 
ren,  and  sending  broths  and  jellies  to  those  who 
could  eat  no  coarser  food,  and  making  clothing 
for  the  old  and  indigent,  and  interesting  herself 
in  the  troubles  and  sorrows  of  every  cotter  in 
the  clachan,  was  an  imposition  which  he  was 
determined  to  put  an  end  to.  He  said  to  him 
self,  indignantly,  that  if  Brodick  felt  he  must  be 
a  kind  of  Providence  to  every  idle  or  unfortu 
nate  family  around,  he  had  no  right  to  impose 
the  rules  of  his  own  conscience  on  Helen. 


124  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  MCNEIL. 

But  the  laird  need  not  have  troubled  himself 
about  Helen.  Never  had  she  spent  so  happy  a 
year.  Her  days  were  brimful  of  duties.  She 
had  now  no  need  to  resort  to  bits  of  embroi 
dery  or  pencil  sketches,  or  any  of  the  ineffi 
cient  make  believes  of  employment  with  which 
naturally  industrious  women,  without  real  work 
to  do,  attempt  to  pass  the  long  hours.  Her 
own  domestic  duties  had  been  much  enlarged. 
Guests  of  some  kind  or  other  were  constantly  at 
the  castle.  The  laird's  lunch  must  generally  be 
sent  to  the  new  building.  He  kept  a  messenger 
running  between  it  and  his  home,  for  he  had 
a  score  of  wants,  of  uncertainties,  which  must  be 
settled  by  references  Helen  alone  could  send 
him. 

Colin  also  had  his  claims,  and  he  was  not 
inclined  to  forego  one  of  them.  Helen  must 
leave  everything  sometimes  and  walk  with  him. 
She  must  sit  beside  him  while  he  took  a  hurried 
meal  before  some  hurried  journey.  She  must 
listen  to  all  that  had  happened  to  him  while  he 
was  away.  She  was  the  dear  house-angel  to 
whom  he  constantly  looked  for  love  and  sym 
pathy  and  assistance. 

But   amid   all   these   claims   upon   her   time, 


THE  MCNEIL'S    WORK.  125 

those  that  Doctor  Brodick  brought  were  never 
neglected.  They  slipped  in  between,  and  bright 
ened  all  the  rest,  —  they  were  the  precious  oint 
ment  upon  the  dusty  feet  of  daily  life.  She 
found  herself  often  wondering  how  it  was  that 
Doctor  Brodick,  as  well  as  Helen  McNeil,  had 
been  blind  and  deaf  to  all  this  sweet  service 
before  George  Selwyn  had  opened  their  eyes 
and  ears  to  it. 

If  there  had  been  any  shadow  in  the  sunshine 
of  this  year,  it  had  come  from  Grizelda.  Her 
letters  during  her  stay  in  London  had  been  full 
of  joy  and  triumph ;  and  even  the  laird  had 
then  hours  in  which  he  doubted  if  he  had  not 
been  unjust  to  Grizelda's  husband.  After  the 
season  closed,  the  young  couple  had  betaken 
themselves  to  Switzerland  and  Germany.  It 
was  while  they  were  travelling  in  these  countries 
Helen  first  began  to  notice  a  change  in  the  tone 
of  her  sister's  letters.  She  made  no  complaint, 
and  they  were  brilliant  with  the  atmosphere 
of  foreign  travel,  luxurious  and  leisurely;  but 
Helen  missed  something. 

However,  Grizelda  was  not  in  very  good 
health ;  and  probably,  if  there  was  a  fault,  it  lay 
in  the  lassitude  of  her  spirits,  and  in  her  inabil- 


126  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

ity  to  take  the  same  interest  in  what  surrounded 
her.  Helen  was  delighted  when,  in  the  late  fall, 
they  returned  to  Blairgowrie.  And  in  spite  of 
all  her  own  cares,  she  found  time  to  go  there 
and  superintend  the  adornment  of  the  house 
and  the  arrangement  of  the  arches  of  evergreens 
which  the  tenants  desired  to  erect  in  honour  of 
their  return.  Considering  the  small  resources 
and  the  poverty  of  the  people  on  Maxwell's 
estate,  they  made  a  brave  attempt  at  the  cus 
tomary  public  welcome. 

But  Maxwell  was  scornfully  indignant  at  what 
he  called  "  the  farce."  His  first  step  across  his 
own  threshold  was  to  a  muttered  imprecation 
at  the  stupid  folly.  He  made  no  speech,  no 
acknowledgment  of  it,  and  looked  with  a  sneer 
at  Grizelda's  poor,  heart-failing  attempt  to  make 
up  for  her  lord's  churlishness  by  her  own  smiles 
and  courtesy. 

There  was  an  inexplicable  change  in  her  face. 
Helen  fancied  in  her  deprecating  tone  there 
was  even  a  distinct  element  of  fear.  She  was 
still  lovely,  but  a  look  of  fragility  about  her  was 
in  direct  contrast  to  that  royalty  of  exuberant 
life  and  beauty  which  had  characterized  Griz- 
elda  at  the  time  of  her  marriage. 


THE  MCNEIL'S   WORK.  I2/ 

And  Helen  soon  perceived  that  Maxwell  was 
less  suave.  The  laird's  new  enterprises  were  in 
reality  a  great  and  constant  irritation  to  him. 
While  he  was  away  nothing  had  been  said  in 
regard  to  them.  The  grand  new  building  rising 
on  the  Britta  bluff  was  the  greatest  possible 
surprise  to  him.  So  were  the  little  lobster  fleet 
and  the  rapid  growth  of  the  clachan.  He  told 
NcNeil  that  both  these  enterprises  had  been  in 
his  own  mind  when  he  bought  Blairgowrie,  and 
that  he  thought  he  might  have  been  asked  to 
share  in  the  speculation. 

"  It  was  all  planned  five  years  ago,  Maxwell," 
was  the  answer,  "  and  my  partner,  Balfour,  was 
the  man  who  put  the  thought  into  my  head. 
So,  then,  he  had  the  first  right  to  his  own 
idea." 

But  Maxwell  deplored  his  loss  in  the  matter, 
and  told  his  own  lie  so  often  that  he  soon  heart 
ily  believed  it;  nor  was  it  much  later  ere  he 
began,  even  in  Grizelda's  presence,  to  blame 
his  marriage  for  his  business  disappointment. 

"  I  bought  this  place,"  he  would  say  sav 
agely,  "  that  I  might  command  a  fine  coast  and 
build  a  summer  resort,  and  start  a  lobster  fish 
ery  ;  and  I  was  such  a  fool  as  to  let  a  pretty  face 


128  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  MCNEIL. 

and  a  contradictious  old  man  hurry  me  into  a 
marriage.  I  wonder  how  McNeil  got  hold  of 
my  idea!  Did  I  tell  you,  Grizelda,  that  these 
were  my  intentions?  I  am  sure  I  must  have 
done  so ;  "  and  he  looked  at  her  in  a  way  which 
she  understood  to  be  an  order  to  confirm  his 
insinuation. 

But  greatly  to  her  own  surprise,  she  dared 
to  disavow  his  assertion.  "  I  never  heard  you 
speak  of  such  a  thing.  Some  years  ago  my 
father  and  Mr.  Balfour  used  to  discuss  the 
subject.  I  often  heard  them." 

"Then  why  the  Devil  did  you  not  tell  me 
•about  it?"  He  left  the  room  in  a  rage,  and 
Grizelda  buried  her  face  in  her  hands  and  burst 
into  passionate  weeping. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A  NEW  SORROW. 

We  are  not  driftwood  on  the  wave  ; 
But,  like  the  ships  that  tempests  brave, 
Our  hearts  upon  their  voyage  stand. 
We  utter  no  unheeded  cry : 
"  Where  is  my  God  ?  "     Lo,  He  is  nigh, 

And  says,  "Take,  child,  thy  Father's  hand." 

LYNCH. 

A  FEW  days  before  Christmas,  Grizelda  had 
a  daughter.  The  child  lived  only  a  few 
hours,  and  the  mother  lay  for  many  weeks 
within  the  shadow  of  death.  Indeed,  on  the 
anniversary  of  her  marriage,  the  laird  and 
Helen  kept  a  sorrowful  vigil  at  Blairgowrie. 
The  young  husband,  white  and  silent,  sat  mo 
tionless  by  the  fire.  The  laird  walked  slowly 
up  and  down  the  room.  A  great  love  and  pity 
were  struggling  with  a  mysterious  coldness  an.d 
anger  in  his  heart;  the  one  for  his  apparently 
dying  child,  the  other  for  the  impassive  husband 
9 


I3O  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  MCNEIL. 

whose  grief  appeared  to  be  so  easily  borne. 
Helen  was  by  her  sister's  side.  She  had  been 
there  for  many  awful  hours,  but  she  knew  not 
that  her  watch  had  lasted  two  long  days  and 
nights,  until  Grizelda's  soul  came  back,  wan, 
weary,  from  the  strange  solitude  in  which  it 
had  been  fighting  for  a  return. 

It  was  near  nightfall  of  the  grim  winter  day 
when  the  father  and  the  sister  of  the  sick  woman 
dared  to  turn  homeward  with  a  flicker  of  hope 
in  their  hearts.  The  laird  was  silent.  Helen 
could  see  that  he  was  nursing  a  grief,  made 
bitter  by  suspicions  of  wrong.  She  knew  his 
heart  by  her  own ;  and  yet  she  could  not  offer 
comfort  for  a  sorrow  which  neither  of  them 
chose  to  voice. 

They  brought  its  shadow  with  them  into  the 
castle.  It  followed  McNeil  to  his  new  building ; 
he  could  not  lock  it  out  of  his  room ;  and,  often 
as  he  put  it  down,  it  climbed  again  into  his  top 
most  thought.  Yet  not  even  to  God  in  his 
most  private  prayer  would  he  speak  of  the 
trouble  which  he  foresaw.  He  determined  not 
to  anticipate,  to  hope  for  the  best,  to  mistrust 
his  own  judgment.  But  Helen  confronted  the 
grief;  and  retiring  with  it  into  that  solitude 


A  NEW  SORROW.  131 

which  is  the  presence  of  God,  she  sought  there 
counsel  and  comfort. 

For  it  was  evident  that  Grizelda  was  an 
unhappy  wife,  perhaps,  indeed,  an  unkindly 
used  one.  The  physicians  had  thought  it  well 
to  forbid  Maxwell  the  sick-room.  The  servants' 
piteous  looks  and  eager  service  needed  no 
words  to  interpret  them.  My  lady  had  become 
an  object  of  commiseration  in  her  own  home. 
A  year  ago  she  had  ruled  there  like  a  queen 
of  love  and  beauty. 

As  the  spring  came  back  to  earth,  Grizelda 
came  back  to  health.  Yet,  old  or  young,  in 
every  great  sickness  we  lose  something  that  we 
never  regain.  Grizelda  stood  one  morning 
looking  mournfully  in  her  mirror  for  a  trace 
of  a  charm  gone  forever.  She  had  lost  the  dew 
of  her  youth  in  that  burning  fight  for  life ; 
lost  that  nameless,  indescribable  atmosphere  of 
young  years  untouched  by  sorrow  and  un- 
dimmed  by  tears. 

And  her  heart  sank,  for  she  knew  that  she 
held  Maxwell  only  by  the  lustre  and  brightness 
of  her  physical  beauty.  Her  mental  qualities 
he  held  in  low  estimation,  —  he  thought  her  a 
fool,  and  did  not  scruple  to  tell  her  so ;  while 


132  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

the  very  purity  of  her  morals  and  her  lofty 
standard  of  right  and  wrong  constantly  irritated 
him;  for  Grizelda  had  been  so  rigidly  trained 
that  sin  was  always  sin  to  her,  —  her  conscience 
never  consented  to  it;  even  in  her  great  dis 
obedience,  the  sting  of  it  secretly  wounded  her 
love  and  darkened  her  happiest  hours. 

Helen  watched  her  with  tender  solicitude. 
She  went  often  to  Blairgowrie,  though  she 
could  easily  feel  that  Maxwell  disliked  her 
visits ;  and  with  every  one  he  threw  off  some 
particle  of  the  restraint,  due  to  her  presence 
only,  until  one  day  his  evil  temper  passed  be 
yond  his  controul.  He  talked  at  Grizelda  in 
stead  of  to  her;  he  sneered  at  her  health;  he 
kicked  her  pet  dog  out  of  the  room;  he  did 
his  best  to  drive  her  either  into  the  mistake 
of  open  revolt,  or  the  equal  mistake  of  tears 
and  complaints. 

Helen  was  burning  with  anger,  yet  she 
watched  her  sister's  behaviour  with  pride  and 
approbation.  Grizelda  became  calm  as  Max 
well  lost  his  self-controul.  Though  she  felt 
personally  every  blow  given  to  her  favourite 
terrier,  she  knew  that  interference  would  be 
useless,  and  she  made  no  attempt  to  interfere. 


A   NEW  SORROW.  133 

She  ignored  the  hard  speeches  she  could  not 
turn  away  with  a  polite  question  or  remark.' 
She  did  what  so  many  hardly  pressed  women 
do,  —  affected  to  think  the  particular  and  pri 
vate  faults  of  Maxwell  were  the  faults  of  all 
his  sex,  and  that  she  was  only  enduring  the 
usual  fate  of  all  married  women. 

Even  when  he  left  the  room  she  did  not 
say  a  word  against  him.  With  a  patience  and 
pathos  Helen  had  never  conceived  of  as  part 
of  Grizelda's  character,  she  turned  the  conver 
sation  upon  her  dress,  her  summer  plans,  the 
visits  she  had  to  make. 

"  Let  me  show  you  the  bonnet  and  mantle 
Walter  brought  me  from  London  last  week," 
she  said.  "  He  is  so  generous.  I  am  sure  the 
lace  on  them  cost  a  great  deal  of  money.  And 
he  is  talking  of  taking  me  to  Switzerland.  He 
thinks  the  mountain  air  will  give  me  back  my 
roses.  What  do  you  think,  Helen?" 

And  Helen,  for  very  pity,  admired  the  gar 
ment,  and  affected  to  approve  of  the  Swiss 
mountains.  But,  oh !  at  the  last,  when  they 
stood  holding  each  other's  hands,  when  they 
kissed  each  other  silently,  with  eyes  full  of 
unshed  tears,  a  complaint  beyond  all  words 


134  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL. 

was  made,  a  sympathy  beyond  all  words 
given. 

Still,  until  Grizelda  spoke,  Helen  felt  she 
must  be  silent.  She  had  no  right  to  force 
confidence,  no  right  to  make  her  sister's  private 
sorrow  a  subject  of  conversation.  Indeed,  she 
respected  Grizelda's  reticence,  and  sympathized 
with  the  womanly  and  wifely  feeling  which 
shrank  from  any  discussion  of  her  husband's 
conduct.  Maxwell  had,  however,  no  concep 
tion  of  so  delicate  a  feeling.  He  believed  the 
sisters  spent  their  interviews  in  discussing  his 
faults ;  and  he  had  no  doubt  that  Helen  faith 
fully  carried  his  wife's  complaints  to  her  father. 
There  were  days  in  which  the  suspicion  pleased 
him,  —  days  in  which  he  was  rude  to  Grizelda 
solely  because  he  expected  Helen  to  report  his 
indignities  to  the  laird. 

For  the  continual  sight  of  prosperity  in  which 
he  had  no  share  irritated  him  more  and  more. 
He  had  really  come  to  believe  himself  very 
greatly  wronged  by  McNeil's  enterprise.  The 
busy  clachan  of  Edderloch,  with  its  happy, 
prosperous-looking  fishers ;  the  fine  hotel,  where 
carpenters,  painters,  and  finishers  of  all  kinds 
were  now  busy;  the  cheering  sounds  of  human 


A   NEW  SORROW.  135 

toil,  well  paid,  and  full  of  contentment;  the 
entire  transformation  of  the  lonely  coast  filled 
him  with  envy. 

He  came  home  one  day  in  a  passion,  and 
ordered  Grizelda  to  be  ready  to  leave  Blair- 
govvrie  in  a  week. 

"  But  where  are  we  going,  Walter?  " 

"  Anywhere  out  of  sight  of  this  miserable 
wilderness.  I  wish  I  had  never  set  foot  in  it. 
But  we  shall  visit  London  first ;  so  take  all  your 
fineries  with  you.  It  is  not  unlikely,  also,  that 
we  shall  never  come  back  here.  I  am  sick  of 
the  place,  and  will  sell  it  if  I  can." 

She  did  not  answer  the  threat,  for  she 
scarcely  believed  it.  Yet  it  made  her  sad  and 
anxious,  for  there  were  many  times  when  she 
felt  grateful  for  the  simple  sense  that  her  father 
and  sister  were  not  far  off,  and  the  gray  turrets 
of  her  old  home  almost  within  sight. 

As  the  day  approached  for  her  journey,  she 
became  very  unhappy.  A  depression  she  was 
not  able  to  account  for  weighed  her  down,  a 
sense  of  uncertainty  and  wrong  made  her  fear 
ful.  She  went  to  bid  her  father  and  Helen 
good-by,  with  a  heart  heavy  with  unformed 
forebodings,  and  her  father's  manner  uncon- 


136  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

sciously  intensified  the  feeling.  Never  had  he 
been  so  tender  and  so  pitiful  to  her,  and  yet, 
withal,  so  silent  and  preoccupied.  She  won 
dered  if  he  had  heard  anything  of  her  trouble. 
She  hoped  he  would  not  ask  her  any  questions ; 
for  how  could  she  resist  his  sympathy?  She 
would  weep  upon  his  breast;  she  would  tell 
him  all ;  perhaps  —  perhaps  she  might  beg 
never  more  to  leave  his  loving  care. 

And  as  yet  she  could  not  bear  to  contemplate 
such  an  alternative.  Maxwell  was  still  unrea 
sonably  dear  to  her.  To  be  with  him  for  the 
chance  of  a  smile  or  a  kind  word  was  some 
thing.  Besides,  there  was  the  social  shame  of 
a  separation  ;  and  Grizelda  was  almost  foolishly 
sensitive  to  public  opinion.  She  could  suffer  in 
silence  and  solitude ;  she  could  not  bear  to 
think  of  strangers  discussing  her  domestic  life. 
She  shrank  even  from  their  sympathy. 

When  the  hour  of  parting  came,  McNeil 
roused  himself.  The  mournful  thoughtfulness 
of  his  mood  disappeared  as  a  shadow  might 
pass  away.  He  watched  Grizelda  weeping  in 
Helen's  arms  with  a  kind  of  angry  pity,  and 
then,  taking  her  hand,  he  led  her  to  his  own 
room.  She  had  not  been  in  it  since  her  bridal 


A   NEW  SORROW.  137 

night.  The  thought  of  all  that  had  passed  since 
made  her  shiver  and  sigh.  She  looked  with  a 
piteous  inquiry  into  her  father's  face  when  he 
put  her  gently  into  a  chair  and  sat  down  beside 
her. 

"  I  have  been  wondering,  Grizelda,  whether 
to  speak  or  to  keep  silence.  Have  you  any 
thing  to  say  to  me,  dear?" 

"No  —  no  —  I  think  not,  dear  father." 

"  Good  girl !  Keep  your  own  counsel  as  long 
as  it  is  possible.  When  you  must  speak,  re 
member  my  ears  are  always  open  to  your 
voice." 

She  clasped  his  hands  tightly,  but  said  not 
a  word. 

"  I  will  ask  you  no  questions,  Grizelda.  I 
will  only  tell  you  something.  It  happened  a 
week  ago.  I  was  walking  home  by  the  fir  planta 
tion  ;  Kinross  and  I  were  together.  Just  at  the 
north  corner,  before  we  turned  it,  we  heard 
some  cries  of  distress.  They  were  not  human, 
and  yet  singularly  human-like." 

Grizelda  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 
"  I  know  what  they  were !  Oh,  I  know  what 
they  were  !  Morag !  Poor  Morag !  " 

"Just  so.     The   beautiful,  sensitive  creature 


138  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  MCNEIL. 

was  tied  to  a  tree,  and  Maxwell  was  lashing  her. 
Her  nostrils  were  flecked  with  a  bloody  foam. 
She  was  quivering  and  sobbing  with  a  sense  of 
outrage  and  pain,  and  when  she  saw  me,  she 
called  me  by  a  whinny  as  entreating  and  irre 
sistible  as  a  child's  cry.  I  went  up  to  your 
husband,  and  said,  '  What  are  you  beating  the 
mare  so  cruelly  for,  Maxwell?'  He  was  livid 
with  passion,  and  he  answered,  '  For  my  own 
pleasure.  It  is  none  of  your  business.'  Then 
Kinross  said  some  very  strong  words  to  him; 
and  while  I  soothed  the  poor  trembling  brute, 
Maxwell,  brought  to  reason  by  the  passion  of 
Kinross,  by  his  threats  and  reproaches,  conde 
scended  to  explain  that  Morag  had  attempted 
to  bite  him,  and  been  disobedient  both  to  his 
voice  and  his  spur." 

"  Poor  Morag !  I  have  not  seen  her  lately. 
She  was  my  mare  once." 

"  Kinross  forced  Maxwell  to  sell  her  to  him 
on  the  spot.  He  would  have  flogged  Maxwell 
with  his  own  whip  if  he  had  not  done  so.  And 
Maxwell  knows  that  Kinross  cannot  be  trifled 
with.  It  was  a  terrible  scene,  my  child ;  and 
during  it  my  thoughts  were  continually  with 
you.  The  man  who  could  flog  a  gentle,  proud, 


A   NEW  SORROW.  139 

sensitive  creature  like  Morag,  could  strike  a 
woman.  Oh,  Grizelda,  when  I  think  of  this,  my 
blood  boils !  " 

She  rose  and  looked  at  him  with  brave  eyes, 
though  they  were  full  of  tears.  "  He  dare  not 
strike  me,  father." 

"If  he  did?" 

"  I  should  know  how  to  right  myself." 

"  Oh,  Grizelda,  be  careful !  I  am  so  in  the 
dark,  child,  I  cannot  advise  you." 

"  And  I  cannot  make  things  plainer  yet, 
father.  I  have  not  lost  all  hope.  When  he  is 
away  from  here  he  will  be  a  better  man.  If  I 
should  need  a  friend  —  " 

"  If  you  should  need  a  friend  —  "  he  went  to 
his  secretary,  and  took  from  it  a  small  parcel. 
"  Money  is  a  sure  friend.  Here  are  two  thou 
sand  pounds  in  Bank  of  England  notes.  They 
are  easily  negotiable.  Tell  no  one  that  you 
possess  them.  And  you  have  always  me  and 
Helen ;  and  never  forget,  my  ain  dear  one,  '  the 
Friend  above  all  others.'  ' 

His  voice  trembled,  for  Grizelda  was  sobbing 
on  his  breast.  He  let  her  head  rest  there  for  a 
few  moments ;  he  stroked  her  fair  hair,  soothed 
and  caressed  her  as  if  she  had  been  a  little 


140  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  MCNEIL. 

child,  and  then,  with  a  kiss,  bade  her  a  long 
farewell. 

The  season  was  at  its  height  when  the  Max 
wells  reached  London,  and  for  a  few  weeks  the 
various  society  newspapers  mentioned  Grizelda 
often  enough  to  give  her  father  and  sister  some 
idea  of  the  life  she  was  leading.  But  a  year's 
interval  of  time  makes  many  changes.  Grizelda 
herself  lacked  the  fresh  charm  of  the  bride,  the 
glad  joyousness  which  had  attracted  all  to  her, 
and  newer  debutantes  held  her  former  high 
social  place.  It  made  little  matter  that  to  the 
thoughtful  and  the  wisely  observant  she  was  a 
really  far  lovelier  woman.  The  mass  of  society 
is  neither  wise  nor  thoughtful ;  it  does  not  stop 
to  investigate  changes,  —  it  treats  them  at  their 
apparent  value;  and  undoubtedly  Lady  Max 
well  was  not  the  bright,  brilliant,  obviously 
beautiful  woman  she  had  been  during  the  pre 
vious  year. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  season  there  was  to 
be  a  ball  at  the  Earl  of  Lauder's.  Lord  Max 
well  manifested  a  singular  eagerness  for  an  in 
vitation,  and  an  unusual  regard  for  his  wife's 
appearance  there.  He  delighted  Grizelda  by 
critically  examining  her  dress,  and  by  his  ap- 


A  NEW  SORROW.  141 

proval  of  it.  He  even  complimented  her  upon 
her  beauty,  and  drawing  her  to  his  side,  kissed 
her  with  a  shadow  of  his  former  tenderness. 
He  could  have  taken  no  more  effectual  method 
to  add  the  last  grace  to  it.  The  few  kind  words 
brought  a  glory  of  colour  into  her  cheeks ;  the 
kiss,  a  wonderful  light  into  her  dark  blue  eyes. 

She  took  his  arm  with  something  of  her  old 
confidence,  and  he  did  not  chill  it  by  sneers  and 
indifference.  She  wondered  at  her  own  happi 
ness.  She  glanced  with  such  shy  pleasure  into 
his  face  that  even  his  hard  heart  was  smitten 
with  a  moment's  remorse  for  the  unnecessary 
suffering  he  had  caused  her.  It  was  so  easy 
to  make  her  beautiful  and  glad  that  he  almost 
thought  it  would  be  worth  his  while  to  do  so. 

After  dancing  some  time  she  became  sud 
denly  weary,  and  her  partner  took  her  to  a 
small  couch  a  little  aside  from  the  moving 
throng.  For  a  few  minutes  she  was  left  unat 
tended,  and  a  shadow  of  sadness  came  into  her 
face.  It  came  from  her  heart,  which  was  vaguely 
reminding  her  that  she  was  weaker,  less  buoyant 
in  step,  less  attractive  altogether  than  she  had 
once  been.  Into  this  thought  a  name  was 
dropped,  —  a  name  she  had  never  before  heard, 


142  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  MCNEIL. 

and  yet  which  gave  her  a  shock,  and  affected 
her  as  if  some  interior  voice  had  said  at  the 
same  moment,  "  Beware  !  " 

"  Miss  Julia  Casselis  !  " 

She  said  it  over  to  herself;  and  when  her 
partner  returned  to  her,  she  asked  if  Miss 
Casselis  was  present. 

"  Have  you  not  seen  her?  Stand  a  little  this 
side  and  you  will  have  the  pleasure.  She  is 
more  than  usually  fascinating  to-night  Ah ! 
Lord  Maxwell  is  dancing  with  her,  I  see.  I 
believe,  indeed,  they  are  very  old  friends." 

He  went  on  talking  of  Casselis  Court,  and 
Maxwell's  old  friendship  with  the  family,  and  a 
score  of  other  things  in  which  the  two  names 
were  blended.  Grizelda  heard  the  words  as  a 
wandering  accompaniment  to  her  own  far  more 
vivid  thoughts,  for  she  knew  the  look  upon 
her  husband's  face.  She  had  seen  him  bend  to 
her  in  the  same  winning  manner  when  he  had 
wooed  her  from  her  duty  and  her  home  in  the 
Edderloch  fir  wood. 

She  had  parted  from  him  with  a  smile.  When 
they  met  again,  his  face  was  dark  and  his  man 
ner  cold.  He  gave  her  his  arm  until  they 
reached  their  carriage ;  then  he  withdrew  him- 


A   NEW  SORROW.  143 

self  as  completely  from  her  sympathy  as  if  they 
were  thousands  of  miles  apart.  Grizelda  did 
not  dare  to  talk.  She  saw  that  he  had  shut 
himself  in  a  revery  which  he  would  not  permit 
her  to  enter;  and  when  the  weary  drive  was 
over  she  went  to  her  room,  sick  with  the  un 
kind  disappointment,  and  trembling  with  the 
prescience  of  coming  sorrow. 

She  had  no  heart  left;  her  long  silk  garments 
trailed  up  the  broad  stairway  as  if  they  felt  the 
weight  of  its  despair.  Her  maid  was  not  pres 
ent,  and  she  did  not  call  her.  She  was  glad  to  be 
alone.  She  fastened  the  door  of  her  room,  and 
stood  still  with  her  hands  locked,  and  downcast, 
to  collect  her  shocked  and  scattered  thoughts. 
The  gray  dawn  creeping  into  the  room  was  not 
more  wan  than  her  face ;  and  the  moonlight 
beauty  of  the  pearls  around  her  throat  and 
wrists  added  a  strange  pathos  to  her  bewilder 
ment  of  grief.  She  had  forgotten  them.  At 
that  moment  all  the  externals  of  life  were 
forgotten. 

She  was  only  conscious  of  the  misery  in  her 
heart;  of  the  yearning  for  the  love  that  was 
lost ;  of  one  sorrow  answering  to  another  sorrow, 
until  her  whole  nature  longed  and  ached  for 


144        THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  MCNEIL. 

some  word  of  comfort.  Then  she  remembered 
the  words  of  her  father.  But  it  was  neither  to  him 
nor  to  Helen  she  would  go.  Only  the  Friend 
above  all  others  could  help  her  in  this  hour. 

There  was  a  beautiful  little  engraving  of  the 
Man  of  Sorrows  on  the  wall.  It  had  been 
George  Selwyn's  bridal  gift  to  her,  and  more 
than  once  it  had  been  strangely  blent  with  those 
tokens  of  comfort  which  are  among  the  secret 
things  not  uncommon  in  the  experience  of  the 
loved  children  whom  God  chastens.  A  glimmer 
of  the  dawn  was  on  the  pale  uplifted  face,  and 
on  the  crown  of  thorns ;  and  as  she  stood  with 
the  sad  question  of  her  heart  before  it,  she  re 
membered  suddenly  some  lines  Selwyn  very 
often  repeated, — 

"  The  old  and  gray  who  travel  wearily, 
All  who  lack  bread,  all  who  strive  and  sigh, 
Each  motherless  little  one, 
Mothers  whose  little  ones  are  in  the  sky, 
No  pain  is  pain  while  Thou  art  nigh  !  " 

and  with  the  words  a  sense  of  consolation  and 
strength  came  to  her.  She  knew  not  how,  for  in 
mystery  each  soul  abides ;  yet  she  surely  felt  that 
with  Him  nigh,  all  sorrow  might  be  borne,  and 
that  — 

"  The  tasks  in  hours  of  insight  willed, 
Can  be  through  hours  of  gloom  fulfilled." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

BROKEN   PLANS. 

Thus  deluges,  descending  on  the  plains, 
Sweep  o'er  the  yellow  year,  destroy  the  pains 
Of  lab'ring  oxen  and  the  peasant's  gains. 
The  shepherd  climbs  the  cliff,  and  sees  from  far 
The  wasteful  ravage  of  the  wat'ry  war 
Bear  down  the  dams  with  unresisted  sway, 

And  sweep  the  cattle  and  the  cots  away. 

DRYDEN. 

Death  cried,  "  Thou  canst  not  walk,  but  I  can  carry." 

ONE  evening  early  in  the  following  August, 
the  laird  and  the  minister  were  walking 
together  from  the  new  hotel.  It  was  nearly 
ready  for  the  furnishing  and  plenishing,  and  the 
laird  was  very  proud  of  the  excellent  way  in 
which  all  had  been  wrought. 

"No  half-and-half  work  there,"  he  said,  look 
ing  backward  to  the  building.  "  I  examined 
every  stone  and  every  plank  with  my  own  eyes. 
I  like  all  my  work  to  be  done  at  the  first  time,  — 
no  patching  up  afterward." 


146  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  MCNEIL. 

"  If  you  do  not  watch  yourself  better,  Laird, 
you  will  fall  and  sink  altogether  to  the  level  of 
your  age,  —  to  keeping  an  hotel  and  making  a 
trifle  of  money,  and  the  like  o'  that." 

"You  have  your  own  schemes  too,  Brodick, 
and  you  are  just  as  proud  of  them  as  I  am  of 
mine.  While  we  are  in  this  world  we  must  fash 
with  this  world  ;  and  until  you  yourself  are  more 
than  a  man,  dinna  throw  stones  at  me." 

"  It  matters  something,  Laird,  as  to  the 
things  we  fash  about.  I  trust  I  am  busy  for 
the  good  of  others.  I  would  n't  think  much 
of  my  work  if  it  was  just  for  myself." 

"  You  have  a  habit  of  talking  of  my  work  as 
if  it  was  a  kind  of  new-fangled  idea  for  money- 
making  which  my  forefathers  would  have  thought 
scorn  of.  Now,  I  hope  I  know  the  McNeils 
better  than  you  do,  and  I  am  particularly  well 
satisfied  that  all  of  them  were  for  money-getting 
in  the  way  possible  to  their  day  and  generation. 
They  lifted  cattle  and  harried  their  neighbours 
because  there  were  no  English  stravaging  up 
the  Highlands  them  days.  I  shall  take  my  toll, 
of  course,  from  men  coming  through  my  coun 
try,  but  I  shall  give  them  good  food  and  lodging 
for  it.  And  it  is  not  you  that  ought  to  object 


BROKEN  PLANS.  147 

to  new  ways ;  you  have  more  of  them  than 
the  college  that  licensed  you  would  Hke, 
minister." 

"  Colleges  don't  know  everything,  Laird. 
They  make  divines ;  they  don't  make  ministers. 
It  is  the  poor  and  the  sick  and  the  sorrowful 
that  make  ministers." 

"  We  should  have  miserable  theologians  from 
poor  folk  and  sick  folk,  Brodick." 

"  Ay,  Laird ;  but  if  men  are  to  be  good  theo 
logians  before  they  are  good  Christians,  our 
blessed  heaven  will  be  empty." 

"  I  dislike  new  ideas  in  religion ;  religion  is 
not  a  progressive  science  like  —  " 

"  Like  money-making?  You  are  wrong, 
McNeil.  Religion  is  progressive.  The  faith  of 
Christ  is  meant  to  fit  every  age.  Its  ways  of 
working  must  therefore  conform  to  every  age. 
The  McNeils  are  not  surely  the  sole  inheritors 
of  that  freedom." 

"  I  know  well  what  you  are  after,  minister. 
You  have  got  a  new  kirk  on  your  brain  now; 
I  heard  of  it  from  Helen." 

"  The  old  one  will  not  seat  half  the  village, 
and  when  the  hotel  is  opened  next  year, 
where  are  the  people  in  it  to  worship?  For 


148  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL. 

the  week  days  you  offer  them  shooting  and 
fishing  and  sport  of  all  kinds ;  what  about  the 
Sabbath?" 

"  It  is  not  likely  many  of  them  will  want  to 
come  to  an  established  church.  If  you  take  ten 
Scotchmen  from  anywhere,  you  will  find  nine 
of  them  smitten  with  dissent  of  some  kind  ;  and 
as  for  Englishmen,  they  dinna  think  a  church  is 
a  church  unless  it  be  the  unadulterated  Church 
of  England.  Why,  Brodick,  you  have  not  been 
able  to  get  your  own  parishioners  to  worship 
together  yet !  " 

"  They  are  drawing  nearer  to  it,  Laird." 

"  Not  they !  You  could  as  easy  move  Ben 
Cruachan  across  to  Ben  More  as  you  could  get 
Gael  and  Lowlander  to  call  each  other  brother." 

"  We  are  told,  McNeil,  that  mountains  can  be 
moved  by  faith.  Why  not,  then,  by  love?  I 
am  a  servant  of  God.  I  do  not  think  it  any 
presumption  to  expect  impossibilities." 

"  Well,  Brodick,  a  new  kirk  is  just  an  impossi 
bility —  but  thanks  be!  the  castle  is  in  sight, 
and  I  'm  glad,  for  your  conversation  has  not 
been  as  pleasant  as  usual.  Don't  turn  your  own 
way,  Brodick.  Come  in,  man,  and  let  us  have 
a  bite  of  sup  together." 


BROKEN  PLANS. 

"  There  is  going  to  be  a  storm  soon,  Laird ; 
there 's  no  mistaking  that  old,  mysterious, 
hungering  sound  in  the  waves." 

McNeil  turned  and  looked  over  them.  "  You 
are  right,  Brodick.  The  black  clouds  are  gather 
ing  in  the  west,  and  it  is  growing  dark  much 
quicker  than  it  should  do." 

"  '  I  made  the  cloud  the  garment  thereof,  and 
thick  darkness  a  swaddling  band  for  it,' — that 
is  what  God  said  to  his  servant  Job  anent  such 
a  sea  as  we  are  now  looking  at.  Oh,  McNeil, 
how  miserably  small  are  our  grandest  works 
when  we  see  the  Almighty  with  our  ain  eyes 
clothing  the  sea  in  clouds,  and  binding  it  in 
the  thick  darkness,  and  setting  bars  and  doors 
before  it,  so  that  if  a  storm  comes  we  know  that 
here  its  proud  waves  will  be  stayed  !  " 

"We  are  not  God  Almighty,  Brodick;  and 
we  are  not  called  upon  to  measure  our  works 
with  His  works.  You  are  wonderful  sombre 
to-night.  Come  in,  and  Colin  and  Helen  will 
maybe  suit  you  better  than  myself." 

Colin  and  Helen  stood  together  at  the  win 
dow  watching  the  gathering  clouds.  His  arm 
was  around  her.  Her  fair  head  was  against  his 
shoulder,  and  his  dark,  handsome  face  was  bent 


150  THE  HOUSEHOLD   Of  McNEIL. 

toward  it.  They  had  been  talking  of  Grizelda, 
and  Helen's  eyes  had  a  troubled  look.  The 
laird  noticed  it  at  once,  and  felt  an  unpleasant 
chill  when  Colin  answered  thus  his  query  as  to 
what  they  had  been  worrying  about :  — 

"  There  is  no  letter  again  from  Grizelda,  and 
Helen  fears  she  is  ill." 

"  Where  was  the  last  from?  " 

"  From  Venice.  She  said  they  were  going  to 
Rome  to  spend  the  winter." 

"  Very  well;  letters  do  not  come  from  Rome 
as  the  crow  flies.  There  will  be  delays  at  both 
ends,  and  all  the  way  too.  Colin,  you  are  a  poor 
lover  to  let  your  betrothed  weep  for  anything ; 
you  should  smile  away  her  fears,  my  lad." 

"  He  does  far  better,  father ;  he  shares  them 
with  me." 

"  Uncle,  I  was  saying  to  Helen  that  if  you 
were  willing  we  might  be  married  next  month, 
and  take  our  wedding  trip  to  Rome ;  we  should 
see  Grizelda  then." 

"  It  is  a  very  good  idea,"  answered  the 
minister. 

"  You  are  none  of  you  thinking  of  me.  What 
shall  I  do  here  by  myself  through  the  long 
months?  " 


BROKEN  PLANS.  151 

"Why,  Laird,  you  have  the  new  hotel.  It 
has  been  your  life  for  the  last  two  years  or 
more.  You  had  better  get  the  wedding  past, 
and  throw  the  doors  open.  When  all  the  world 
is  coming  to  Edderloch  you  '11  have  no  time  to 
fash  your  head  with  such  a  small  matter  as  two 
young  things  loving  each  other." 

"  You  are  in  a  most  uncomfortable  temper 
to-night,  Brodick ;  but,  good-will  or  ill-will,  your 
words  have  a  grain  of  wisdom  in  them." 

Then,  supper  being  ready,  they  drew  around 
the  table,  and  finished  the  discussion  over  it 
But  such  opposition  as  the  laird  made  was 
feeble.  He  was  himself  uneasy  about  Grizelda. 
He  had  long  seen  that  Colin's  importunity 
for  an  early  marriage  would  have  to  be  sub 
mitted  to,  and  he  had  become  so  fond  of  Colin 
that  the  surrender  of  Helen  to  him  was  not  in 
his  imagination  so  painful  as  it  had  once  been. 

For  as  to  any  actual  surrender  of  the  comfort 
of  her  continual  presence,  there  was  no  question 
of  that.  There  would  be  no  change  in  his 
home,  in  its  beautiful  order  and  ordering.  And 
Helen  had  never  neglected  his  lightest  wish  or 
put  her  lover  one  moment  before  him.  He 
had  no  fear  that  to  a  husband  he  would  have 


I$2  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  MCNEIL. 

to  resign  the  smallest  tittle  of  his  rights  as  a 
father. 

So  after  a  hesitation  which  was  mostly  as 
sumed,  he  agreed  to  Colin's  proposal.  The 
marriage  was  to  take  place  some  time  in  Octo 
ber,  and  after  it,  Colin  and  Helen  were  to  go 
directly  to  Rome.  And  when  the  decision  was 
really  made,  McNeil  felt  a  positive  satisfaction 
in  it.  He  had  not  understood  until  now  what 
an  ever-present  fear  and  care  Grizclda  was  in 
his  heart.  But  he  had  never  been  able  to  rid 
himself  of  the  scene  between  Maxwell  and  the 
mare  Morag,  and  with  the  shameful  memory 
there  always  came  a  torturing  terror  lest  his 
child,  his  daughter,  was  in  the  physical  power 
of  a  natural  human  brute.  He  tried  to  deny 
the  possibility  of  such  a  terror;  to  oppose  to 
it  reason  and  the  social  conditions  of  society; 
but  it  laughed  at  his  limping  logic,  and  the 
struggle  only  gave  it  added  energy.  For 
whether  a  man  resists  a  fear  or  succumbs  to  it, 
the  very  fact  of  measuring  himself  against  it 
insures  its  hold  upon  him. 

And  while  this  conversation  was  going  on, 
the  threatened  storm  broke.  The  terror-stricken 
rain  flung  itself  wildly  against  the  windows ;  the 


BROKEN  PLANS.  153 

wind  went  howling  around  the  castle,  clamouring 
at  every  ancient  door  for  admission.  The  great 
sea's  eternal  roar  filled  the  old  rooms  with  an 
echo  that  it  soon  became  impossible  to  inter 
rupt.  The  laird  and  Brodick  crept  close  to  the 
fire  and  smoked  their  pipes  to  monosyllables. 
Colin  and  Helen  sat  together  in  the  background. 
The  tie  between  them  had  been  drawn  closer 
that  night,  but  a  strange  depression  prevented 
them  from  discussing  it  further.  Both  noticed 
the  melancholy,  and  both  tried  to  explain  it. 

"It  is  not  in  my  heart,  Helen,"  said  Colin; 
"  for  I  am  the  happiest  man  alive." 

"  It  is  I  who  am  to  blame,  dear  Colin.  The 
moaning  and  roaring  of  the  waves  always  make 
me  sad.  When  I  was  a  girl  I  fancied  they  told 
me  ghastly  tales  of  what  was  happening  in  the 
storm,  and  I  used  to  steal  away  to  sleep  with  a 
pain  in  my  heart." 

The  storm  continued  for  a  week.  It  flooded 
the  harvest  fields  and  made  the  bogs  and  moors 
impassable.  The  wretched  old  turf-and-stone 
cottages  in  the  village  were  very  inefficient 
shelters.  The  people  were  constantly  wet; 
and  even  in  the  new  cottages  there  was  great 
discomfort  and  suffering.  They  had  been  built 


154  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL. 

without  any  drainage,  though  natural  facilities 
for  drainage  were  in  sight. 

The  laird  found  it  impossible  to  reach  his 
work  and  workers,  and  was  cross  and  appre 
hensive  of  all  sorts  of  wrong  and  misfortune. 
The  minister  found  it  impossible  to  relieve 
one-half  of  the  suffering  and  necessity  brought 
to  him,  and  he  was  irritated  by  his  inabilities. 
Only  Colin  and  Helen  found  some  vital  interest 
which  the  storm  had  not  interfered  with. 

But  no  storms  last  forever.  In  ten  days  all 
was  going  on  again  as  if  sunshine  was  the 
perpetual  right  of  earth.  The  laird  had  found 
all  well  at  the  building.  The  deep  foundation, 
the  excellent  materials  and  fine  workmanship 
had  stood  the  test  of  the  elements.  McNeil's 
heart  was  settled  now.  He  had  often  feared 
that  the  lofty  situation  chosen  might  be  a  dan 
gerous  one ;  but  his  building  had  been  tried 
by  an  unusually  long  and  furious  storm,  and 
had  not  lost  a  roof-slate.  So  that  now,  when 
the  sun  was  shining  again  over  the  dark  day- 
shine  of  the  sea  and  the  pillared  rocks  and  the 
heathery  hills,  he  could  not  help  feeling  a  kind 
of  satisfaction  in  the  tempest  which  had  brought 
him  so  comfortable  an  assurance. 


BROKEN  PLANS.  155 

Besides,  a  new  thought  had  come  into  his 
mind.  For  the  next  generation  of  the  McNeils 
he  would  build  a  grander  home.  The  old 
castle  was  very  dear  to  him,  but  it  could  be 
made  much  larger,  and  more  stately  in  form, 
and  much  more  magnificent  in  the  interior. 
In  fact,  the  passion  of  dabbling  in  stone  and 
mortar  had  taken  possession  of  the  laird,  and 
he  felt  as  if  life  would  lack  something  important 
when  he  had  no  building  on  hand  and  no  work 
men  to  look  after. 

As  it  happened,  his  architect  paid  him  a  visit 
while  the  thought  was  simmering  in  his  mind. 
The  possibilities  of  the  castle  were  thoroughly 
examined,  the  additions  and  alterations  decided 
on,  and  McNeil's  heart  was  uplifted  with  the 
idea  of  the  house  he  would  leave  to  those  who 
would  come  after  him.  He  thought  of  himself 
as  the  second  McNeil,  —  the  founder  of  the 
family  upon  circumstances  suited  to  the  aims 
and  genius  of  the  nineteenth  century.  He  felt 
as  if  in  the  land  of  shadows  the  McNeil  who  had 
first  built  their  home  would  greet  him  with  a 
.  peculiar  approbation  and  affection.  He  stepped 
proudly  about  the  old  rooms  to  his  ambitious 
thoughts;  and  Colin  and  Helen,  happily  busy 


156  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

about  their  bridal  arrangements,  were  glad  of  the 
new  interest  that  he  had  called  into  his  life. 

So  the  pleasant  weeks  went  by,  and  there  was 
no  sorrow  in  them,  nor  yet  any  shadow  or  pre 
sentiment  of  sorrow.  A  letter  from  Grizelda, 
dated  Rome,  had  lulled  such  fears  regarding 
her  as  were  spoken  of;  those  which  lay  at  the 
bottom  of  each  heart  did  not  interfere  with  the 
visible  happy  routine  of  daily  life. 

The  laird  had  determined  to  make  his  daugh 
ter  Helen's  marriage  a  notable  event.  The 
festivities  at  Grizelda's  had  been  in  a  manner 
forced  and  formal  ones,  in  which  the  bride  had 
taken  little  interest  and  which  had  simply  been 
got  through  with  by  himself  because  the  family 
name  and  family  feeling  demanded  them. 

But  Helen's  marriage  would  be  the  realization 
of  his  pet  plans  and  hopes.  He  loved  Colin, 
and  thought  him  as  worthy  of  Helen  as  any 
mere  mortal  could  be.  Their  union  was  in 
every  way  a  fit  one ;  and  he  was  resolved  to 
show  the  McNeils,  who  had  not  thought  much 
of  Grizelda's  wedding-feast,  that  when  the  oc 
casion  was  worthy  of  it,  he  knew  how  to  rejoice 
royally  with  his  kindred.  And  he  also  had  a 
very  decided  feeling  of  pleasure  in  the  prospect 


BROKEN  PLANS.  157 

of  astonishing  them  with  the  improvements  he 
had  made  on  the  estate. 

The  castle  was  in  a  manner  renovated  for  the 
event.  Rooms  that  had  not  been  used  for  a 
generation  were  thrown  open  and  refurnished ; 
the  uneven  black  oak  floors  were  covered  with 
rich  carpets ;  the  ill-fitting  windows  shielded 
with  draperies  of  heavy  velvet;  antique  chairs 
and  sofas  were  recovered ;  polishers,  paperers 
and  gilders  were  brought  from  Glasgow  to 
make  the  ancient  rooms  a  fit  residence  for  a 
young  and  lovely  bride. 

Helen  and  Colin  found  in  all  these  changes 
hourly  cause  for  delightful  hopes  and  confi 
dences.  Helen  had  all  a  woman's  delight  in 
a  delightful  home.  Every  fresh  ornament 
pleased  her.  The  disposition  of  every  piece 
of  furniture,  the  hanging  of  every  picture, 
was  an  event  to  the  lovers.  Two  chaffinches 
building  their  spring  nests  among  the  apple 
blossoms  were  never  happier  than  those  two 
loving  mortals,  arranging  together  their  future 
home. 

In  the  matter,  also,  of  Helen's  wardrobe,  the 
laird  had  been  singularly  thoughtful  and  gen 
erous.  Boxes  bearing  wedding  garments  of 


158  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  MCNEIL. 

all  kinds  were  continually  arriving,  and  Colin 
knew  that  whenever  he  should  go  to  Glasgow 
to  purchase  his  bride  jewels,  he  would  carry 
with  him  an  order  from  the  laird  for  diamonds 
of  great  worth.  So,  although  September  was 
an  unusually  rainy  month,  there  was  a  perpetual 
sunshine  of  love  and  hope  in  the  castle. 

At  the  end  of  September,  Colin  went  to 
Glasgow  to  make  the  last  purchases  and  ar 
rangements.  It  seemed  to  Helen  as  if  he  took 
with  him  all  the  rare,  sweet  atmosphere  in 
which  she  had  been  living  for  a  little  while. 
A  sudden  sense  of  suspended  duties  gave  her 
a  feeling  of  remorse.  She  remembered  how 
seldom  Doctor  Brodick  had  been  to  speak  to 
her,  and  how  little  interest  she  had  taken  in 
her  usual  village  work. 

The  thought  was  a  premonition,  for  ere  it 
had  passed  away,  she  saw  the  minister  coming. 
Not  at  his  usual  thoughtful  pace,  but  with  the 
rapid  steps  of  a  man  urged  by  some  powerful 
reason,  and  full  of  a  determined  purpose.  She 
glanced  at  her  father,  who  was  sitting  by  the 
hearth,  taking  his  after-dinner  pipe  and  glass 
of  toddy.  He  had  received  that  morning  the 
first  draught  of  the  plans  for  the  enlargement 


BROKEN  PLANS.  159 

of  the  castle,  and  he  was  musing  with  pride  and 
contentment  on  their  anticipated  splendour. 

He  greeted  Brodick  with  a  peculiar  kindness, 
and  held  his  hand  with  a  hearty  grip ;  for  he 
loved  the  man,  and  was  not  happy  in  any  pur 
pose  till  he  had  discussed  it  with  him,  and  if 
possible  secured  his  active  sympathy. 

"  Sit  down  beside  me,  Brodick.  There  is  not 
a  man  in  the  world  I  would  rather  see  at  this 
hour.  Helen,  my  bird,  call  for  the  minister's 
pipe  and  glass." 

He  was  so  full  of  his  own  plans  he  did  not 
notice  that  Brodick's  cheeks  had  on  them  the 
red  spot  which  always  indicated  his  anger ;  nor 
yet  that  his  manner  was  full  of  stern  preoccu 
pation.  The  laird  at  that  moment  could  see 
nothing  but  the  magnificent  turrets  of  his  pro 
jected  home,  with  the  ensign  of  the  McNeils 
floating  loftily  from  it;  and  as  the  specifica 
tions  lay  beside  him,  he  opened  them  proudly, 
and  began  to  explain  their  purport  to  his  old 
friend. 

Brodick  looked  at  them  a  moment  with  gath 
ering  anger ;  then  he  pushed  them  passionately 
away  and  cried  out,  — 

"  I  dare  not  look  at  them,  Laird  !     I  dare  not 


160  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL. 

look  at  them !  Do  you  know  that  there  are 
fourteen  cases  of  typhus  in  those  cottages  you 
built?  Do  you  remember  what  George  Sclwyn 
said  about  the  right  of  the  labourer  to  pure  air 
and  pure  water?  I  knew  he  was  right  then, 
and  yet  —  oh  God,  forgive  me  !  —  I  let  you  take 
your  own  way.  Six  little  bits  of  bairns  and 
their  two  mothers,  and  six  of  your  best  fisher 
men.  You  must  away  instanter  for  doctors  and 
medicine,  and  such  things  as  are  needful. 
There  is  not  a  minute  to  lose,  Laird !  " 

Helen  had  risen  while  the  minister  was 
speaking,  and  there  was  a  calm  determination 
about  her  manner  which  frightened  her  father. 
He  did  not  answer  Brodick ;  he  turned  to  his 
daughter. 

"  Helen  McNeil,  where  are  you  going?  " 

"  To  the  village.  I  know  something  of  nurs 
ing  the  sick.  I  can  give  a  little  help  until 
better  help  is  got." 

"  Sit  down  !  sit  down  !  Bide  where  you  are ; 
I  will  do  whatever  Brodick  tells  me  to  do." 

Then  he  turned  angrily  to  the  minister. 

"  You  are  aye  bringing  me  bad  news.  Am  I 
to  blame  if  fever  comes?  Is  life  and  death  in 
my  hand?" 


BROKEN  PLANS.  lO'l 

"  You  are  to  blame,  McNeil ;  very  much  to 
blame." 

"  Brodick,  keep  to  your  own  text.  I  say  the 
cottages  are  good  ones.  If  men  and  women 
are  lazy  and  dirty,  and  give  fever  an  invite  into 
their  homes,  can  I  help  it?  " 

"  '  Am  I  my  brother's  keeper?'  It  is  an  old 
question,  an  old  excuse,  Laird.  The  first  mur 
derer  asked  it  and  pleaded  it.  I  am  bound  to 
say  that  you  are  to  blame.  When  you  did  not 
give  the  cottages  good  drainage  and  plenty  of 
pure  water,  you  asked  fever  into  them ;  and 
I  will  not  hear  you  lay  it  to  the  Almighty. 
You  should  have  built  as  George  Selwyn  ad 
vised  you  to  build." 

"  Name  not  that  man  to  me !  I  hate  him ! 
What  did  he  come  here  for?  He  has  brought 
me  nothing  but  trouble.  And  I  will  not  be 
hectored  by  you  either,  Doctor,  as  if  I  was  a 
bad  bairn.  Say  what  I  must  do,  and  I  '11  do  it, 
if  it  is  anything  in  reason:  only,  Helen  shall 
not  leave  the  castle ;  that  is  sure  as  death  !  Sit 
down,  Helen.  Send  all  the  wine  and  dainties 
you  like  to ;  but  I  forbid  you  to  put  a  foot  over 
the  threshold  of  the  castle." 

"  I    am    not    asking    for    Helen.      There   is 


162  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  MCNEIL. 

nothing  she  could  do  now  that  some  old  crone 
in  the  village  cannot  do  better." 

"  Do  or  not  do,  Helen  will  bide  just  where 
she  is.  I  will  count  you  my  enemy  for  ever 
more  if  you  set  any  other  duty  but  my  word 
before  her." 

The  laird's  anger  was  in  its  way  quite  as 
authoritative  as  the  minister's,  and  Helen  sig 
nified  her  assent  to  his  order  by  a  kiss  which 
somehow  sent  a  pang  into  his  heart  and  a  sob 
into  his  throat.  He  put  on  his  hat  and  went 
out  with  Brodick.  It  was  a  bitterly  annoying 
interruption  to  all  his  pleasant  dreaming.  And 
Brodick's  self-reproaches  were  his  own  self- 
reproaches,  though  he  resented  them,  even  while 
he  acknowledged  their  justice. 

"  I  wish  now  that  I  had  built  differently. 
You  should  have  urged  me  more,  Brodick.  If 
you  had  put  it  to  me  as  a  matter  of  right 
and  wrong,  you  know  I  would  have  minded 
you." 

"  Oh,  Laird,  my  own  conscience  is  enough 
this  day." 

"  You  should  have  made  me  do  right.  You 
should  have  been  more  determined  with  me." 

It  was  not  at  all  likely  that  McNeil  would 


BROKEN  PLANS.  163 

have  listened  to  any  advice  on  the  subject;  it 
was  even  probable  that  urging  would  have  only 
made  him  more  stubbornly  against  such  slight 
improvements  as  had  been  made,  but  it  relieved 
McNeil  to  think  he  would  have  listened  to  rea 
son,  and  besides,  he  had  a  sort  of  angry  satisfac 
tion  in  augmenting  the  trouble  of  the  minister's 
conscience. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  evil  days.  It  soon 
became  evident  that  the  wedding  would  have  to 
be  postponed.  Guests  could  hardly  be  invited 
to  a  village  plague-stricken  in  every  household ; 
and  the  suffering  and  mourning  were  so  great 
and  so  general  that  the  very  idea  of  festivity 
amid  it  was  unnatural  and  revolting. 

Colin  alone  had  a  moment's  contemplation  of 
it.  He  thought  it  would  be  well  to  have  a  very 
quiet  and  private  ceremony,  and  take  Helen 
away  from  the  infected  locality ;  but  Helen 
would  not  permit  the  suggestion  to  be  made. 

"  I  should  be  selfish  indeed,"  she  said,  "  to 
leave  my  father  alone  in  his  trouble ;  and  I 
should  be  haunted  by  the  constant  fear  of  his 
death.  Besides,  Colin  dear,  our  marriage  was 
to  be  such  a  great  pleasure  to  him.  We  may 
not  care  for  the  company  and  the  stir  of  the 


1 64  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  MCNEIL. 

wedding-feast,  but  he  thinks  so  much  of  it.  If 
we  are  married  quietly  for  our  own  pleasure  or 
safety,  I  should  always  feel  as  if  we  had  de 
frauded  him  of  a  joy  he  could  never  have  again. 
An  old  man's  disappointment  counts  double,  I 
think,  Colin." 

And  Colin  kissed  her  fondly.  He  had  no 
wish  but  her  wish;  for  she  had  continually 
taught  him  by  her  sweet  unselfishness  that 
neither  men  nor  women  can  live  for  themselves 
a  life  worth  living,  —  that  all  the  flowers  of  love 
and  happiness  blow  double. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

PARTING. 

She  bought  with  price  of  purest  breath  a  grave  among  the 

eternal. 

They  parted,  yet  they  love  ; 
And  shall  these  spirits  in  an  air  serene, 
Where  nought  can  shadow,  nought  can  come  between, 
Meet  once  again,  and  to  the  other  grow 
More  close  and  sure  than  could  have  been  below? 

DURING  the  following  six  weeks,  Brodick's 
efforts  were  almost  superhuman.  He  was 
doctor  and  nurse  and  cook.  He  carried  the 
wailing  babies  and  held  the  raving  men  in  his 
strong  arms.  He  watched  over  the  sick  till 
the  last  hope  had  fled;  he  buried  them  ten 
derly  when  life  was  over.  The  splendour  of 
the  man's  humanity  had  never  shown  itself  until 
it  stood  erect,  and  feared  not  though  the  pes 
tilence  that  walked  in  darkness  and  the  de 
struction  that  wasted  at  noon-day  were  around 
him  on  every  side. 

McNeil   also    In    this    extremity   rose    nobly 
to  the  topmost  level  of  what  he  conceived  to 


1 66  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  MCNEIL. 

be  his  duty.  Plenty  of  people  are  willing  to 
play  the  Good  Samaritan  without  the  oil  and 
twopence;  but  that  was  not  the  laird's  way. 
Brodick's  outspoken  blame  had  really  made 
him  tremble  at  his  new  responsibilities.  He 
put  his  hand  in  his  pocket  and  liberally  helped 
the  sufferers.  Nor,  unless  all  our  own  motives 
ring  clear  throughout,  must  we  blame  him  too 
much  if,  at  the  foundation  of  all  his  efforts  at 
atonement,  lay  one  haunting  thought,  —  Helen  ! 
If  he  did  what  he  could  for  others,  Helen  would 
be  safer.  He  never  audibly  admitted  that 
Helen  was  in  danger ;  but  —  but,  if  there  should 
be  danger,  he  was,  he  hoped,  paying  a  ransom 
for  her  safety. 

Toward  the  end  of  October  the  epidemic 
appeared  to  have  spent  itself.  Men  began  to 
creep  into  the  sunshine,  and  to  handle  their 
nets  with  wasted  and  trembling  hands.  White- 
faced  women  counted  their  children,  and  wept 
because  of  those  that  were  not.  Boys  and 
girls,  with  a  strange  stillness  about  them,  played 
their  games  softly  in  the  twilight,  and  then  sat 
down  to  whisper  together  of  the  dread  things 
that  had  been  seen  and  heard  in  the  fever- 
time. 


PARTING.  167 

The  laird  tried,  as  far  as  possible,  to  resume 
,his  usual  life ;  but  there  was  still  a  shadow  on 
the  minister's  face,  and  he  knew  himself  that 
there  was  a  shadow  on  his  heart.  Was  it  from 
the  still  solemnity  of  death  in  which  he  had 
rately  lived  so  much,  or  was  it  the  shadow  of 
a  coming  instead  of  a  departing  sorrow? 

One  afternoon  Brodick  thought  he  would  go 
and  sit  with  Helen  a  little  while.  During  his 
close  intimacy  with  the  cotters  he  had  learned 
many  things  about  their  daily  life  which  would 
materially  alter  his  methods  of  working  for 
their  welfare ;  and  of  these  changes  he  wished 
to  talk  with  Helen.  The  preparations  for  her 
marriage  were  being  slowly  renewed,  and  if  she 
went,  as  previously  determined  upon,  to  Rome 
for  the  winter,  there  would  be  few  other  oppor 
tunities  for  consultation  until  her  return.  She 
was  just  going  to  take  a  walk  on  the  moor,  and 
he  joined  her. 

"  Colin  has  gone  to  Glasgow,"  she  said.  "  My 
father  had  some  business  he  desired  him  to  at 
tend  to  before  we  go  away." 

"Yes,  dear.  Is  your  wedding-day  fixed, 
Helen?" 

"  On  the  eleventh  of  November,  if  God  will." 


1 68  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

"  You  are  sad,  my  child." 

"Am  I?  I  thought,  indeed,  how  sad  your 
face  was." 

The  day  was  itself  mournful  and  gray,  even 
for  a  November  day.  The  purple  glory  of  the 
heather  was  all  gone.  The  wood  was  a  sombre, 
silent  realm  of  leafless  trees ;  and  a  chill  breath 
of  wind  shivered  through  it  and  made  Helen 
draw  her  wrap  closer  around  her  throat.  The 
rocky  shore,  the  black  seaboard,  the  scaly  fish- 
boats,  the  jetties  thick  with  kelp  and  tangle 
made  a  dreary  picture. 

And  in  spite  of  the  doctor's  intention  to  talk 
to  Helen  of  work  to  be  done  in  the  future,  he 
could  not  say  a  word  of  it  though  it  was  a  sub 
ject  that  filled  his  heart.  A  pathetic  silence 
fell  between  them,  and  he  was  not  able  to 
break  it.  As  for  Helen,  she  walked  on  with 
a  step  a  little  dragging,  and  with  eyes  mourn 
fully  fixed  on  the  tossing  waves. 

"They  never  rest!  Neither  in  sunshine  nor 
in  moonshine  do  they  know  the  blessedness  of 
perfect  sleep." 

Her  voice  had  a  wistful  weariness  in  it.  The 
doctor  looked  sharply  at  her  "  Helen,  my 
dear,  are  you  quite  well?" 


PARTING.  169 

"I  have  not  been  quite  well  for  two  weeks. 
I  had  a  strange  dream  last  night.  Doctor,  if 
I  should  die,  comfort  my  father  and  Colin." 

Her  words  fell  on  his  ear  like  words  that 
he  had  been  expecting.  He  realized  in  a 
moment  they  were  the  words  '  he  had  been 
fearful  of  hearing.  A  terror  he  could  not  put 
down  made  him  speechless,  but  he  took  her 
hands  and  felt  that  they  were  burning  with 
fever. 

"  Let  us  go  home,  Doctor." 

She  turned  with  the  words  and  gave  one 
long,  mournful  look  at  the  mountains  and  the 
ssa  and  the  lonely  brown  stretch  of  moorland. 
She  was  bidding  farewell  to  them:  the  soul 
has  marvellous  intuitions,  and  Brodick  was  aware 
of  it.  Yet  he  had  not  a  word  to  say  to  her; 
there  are  spiritual  moods  beyond  all  human 
intermeddling. 

The  silence  was  broken  by  Helen. 

"  Doctor,  when  your  heart  sinks,  and  is  full 
of  doubts,  and  when  the  road  is  dark  before 
you,  what  do  you  do?" 

"  He  that  carried  our  sins  can  surely  carry 
our  doubts ;  nay,  but,  my  dear  girl,  as  He  car 
ries  lambs  like  you  in  His  ^rms,  is  there  any 


I/O  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  MCNEIL. 

need  to  trouble  yourself  what  kind  of  road  is 
before  you?  You  cannot  get  tired  in  His 
arms,  you  cannot  miss  your  way,  you  cannot 
be  frightened  by  anything,  not  even  by  death, 
for  He  is  Eternal  Life." 

She  looked  into  his  face  with  the  grave  glad 
ness  of  one  that  has  grasped  the  hand  of  a 
friend. 

"  You  said  you  had  a  strange  dream,  Helen?  " 

"  Yes,  a  dream  —  a  vision  —  I  know  not  how 
to  speak  of  it.  Could  a  mortal  being  see  one 
that  is  immortal?  If  I  said  that  I  had  seen  an 
angel,  would  you  believe  me?" 

"  Yes ;  for  the  angels  of  the  Lord  encamp 
round  about  them  that  fear  Him;  and  those 
who  come  into  the  reception  of  heavenly  things, 
Helen,  come  also  into  the  companionship  with 
heavenly  beings.  Infusions  of  light  and  com 
fort,  inward  helps  that  bless  us  when  we 
are  not  looking  for  them,  intimations,  holy 
thoughts,  suggestions  of  purity  and  beauty, 
desires  after  God,  motions  of  that  hidden  fire 
we  call  prayer, — how  come  they,  Helen?  I 
will  tell  you.  Good  minds  are  joined  to  holier 
minds,  and  the  angels  of  God  still  ascend  and 
descend,  ministering  to  those  who  love  Him." 


PARTING.  I/I 

"  I  would  tell  you  what  I  saw  and  what  I 
heard,  but  I  cannot  find  the  words." 

"  To  you  only  was  the  message,  Helen. 
They  who  have  to  hear  understand;  they  who 
have  not  to  hear  cannot  understand." 

They  were  by  this  time  in  the  castle  garden. 
Helen  stooped  and  touched  gently  the  few  last 
flowers  blooming  there,  —  a  cluster  of  golden 
chrysanthemums ;  and  the  laird,  who  had  seen 
them  coming,  opened  the  door  wide  to  welcome 
them.  Alas !  alas !  though  he  saw  him  not, 
Death  entered  with  them. 

At  midnight  there  was  the  old,  old  cry  of 
despair  and  anguish,  the  hurrying  for  help 
where  no  help  could  avail,  the  desolation  of  a 
terror  creeping  hour  by  hour  closer  to  the 
hearthstone ;  for  Helen  lay  in  a  stupour  while 
the  fever  burned  her  young  life  away,  and  the 
laird  was  stricken  with  a  stony  grief,  deaf  to 
all  consolation.  He  wandered  up  and  down, 
wringing  his  hands,  and  crying  out  at  intervals 
like  a  man  in  mortal  agony. 

Brodick  had  felt  from  the  first  that  there 
was  no  hope.  Something  in  the  girl's  face 
that  last  afternoon  they  walked  together  had 
impressed  him  more  than  her  words  and  man- 


1/2  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

ner.  Her  soul  was  looking  out  from  it,  a  little 
sad,  a  little  wistful  and  wondering ;  silent,  and  yet 
restless,  as  the  birds  are  silent  and  restless  just 
before  they  leave  their  summer  nests  and  de 
part  for  a  land  that  is  very  far  off.  They  dream 
of  its  sunshine  and  beauty,  they  are  ready  to  go ; 
but,  oh  !  the  long  flight  over  the  cruel  sea,  where 
there  will  be  no  rest  for  their  weary  wings. 

And  during  that  last  mournful  walk  the 
minister  had  seen,  also,  that  she  had  dropped 
from  her  care  and  thought  all  relating  to  her 
marriage  and  her  future.  The  subject  interested 
her  no  more  than  the  toy  which  a  child  has 
outgrown  interests  it.  Life,  with  its  joys  and 
sorrows,  was  already  over;  she  knew  that  she 
was  going  the  way  of  all  the  earth ;  and  though 
heaven  had  opened  to  her,  and  she  had  un 
doubtedly  had  some  vision  of  its  beauty,  that 
unknown  thing,  the  passage  between  the  two 
lands,  frightened  her. 

Toward  the  close  of  her  life  she  became 
almost  radiantly  conscious,  and  radiantly  happy. 
Holding  Colin's  hand,  she  had  not  one  regretful 
thought  for  the  earthly  life  they  were  to  have 
shared  together.  Loving  him  with  the  sweetest 
tenderness,  she  felt  it  no  wrong  to  desire  for 


PARTING.  173 

that  love  rather  the  tryst  of  eternity  than  the 
fruition  of  time. 

She  went  away  very  early  in  the  morning, 
just  when  the  horizon  was  beginning  to  redden 
and  the  earliest  robins  to  twitter  in  the  wood. 
Colin,  with  sorrow-haunted,  tearless  eyes,  stood 
watching  her.  The  laird,  bravely  struggling 
with  his  grief,  knelt  silently  at  her  side.  Brodick 
also  was  there,  and  a  few  of  the  oldest  servants ; 
but  not  a  word  or  a  movement  broke  the  divine 
stillness  of  the  death-room. 

It  was  at  this  moment  Helen  said  quite 
clearly,  — 

"Father!" 

"  I  am  here,  Helen." 

"  There  is  a  paper  in  my  jewel-box  on  the 
table." 

He  went  and  got  it.  It  was  only  a  small  strip, 
folded  crosswise. 

"  Read  it  when  I  am  beyond  all  pain.  I 
shall  trust  you,  father !  Colin,  dear !  Doctor 
Brodick !  " 

Colin  could  not  speak.  The  minister  stooped, 
and  said  softly,  — 

"Is  it  well,  Helen?  Do  you  feel  the  bonds 
of  death,  my  child  ?  " 


174  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

"  I  trust  in  those  pierced  hands  that  have 
broken  the  bonds  of  death.  Oh,  breadth  !  Oh, 
depth !  Oh,  boundless  length  !  Oh,  inaccessi 
ble  height !  Oh,  Christ's  love !  " 

The  mystical  gray  shadow  stole  over  her  face 
at  these  last  words.  Brodick  stood  praying 
with  lifted  hands.  It  was  soon  all  past,  — 

"  She  had  outsoared  the  shadow  of  our  night, 
And  that  unrest  which  men  miscall  delight  " 

They  dressed  her  in  her  bridal  gown,  and, 
three  days  afterward,  laid  her  among  the  genera 
tions  of  her  people,  —  the  fighting  thanes  of  the 
olden  years,  the  brides  and  widows  and  children 
of  the  McNeils  for  many  a  century.  Her  kin 
dred  on  the  other  side  were  far  greater,  far  more 
numerous  than  those  in  the  earthly  home  she 
had  left. 

And  the  poor,  heart-broken  father  thought 
of  this,  and  derived  a  strange  comfort  from  the 
thought. 

"  They  were  good  men,  according  to  their 
lights,"  he  said  to  Colin ;  "  rough  men,  doubt 
less,  but  aye  ready  to  stand  up  for  the  faith  and 
the  right.  And  their  women  would  have  the 
sorrows  of  women,  and  their  consolations. 


PARTING.  175 

\ 

Thank  God !  Helen  will  not  be  without  her 
ain  folk ;  and  even  there  they  '11  be  nearer  than 
other  folk.  Eh,  Colin?" 

The  young  man  answered  only  with  passion 
ate  tears  and  sobs.  The  words  had  broken 
down  the  flood  gates  of  his  sorrow.  The  laird 
looked  at  him  almost  with  envy.  The  eyes 
grow  dry  as  we  grow  old,  tears  are  further  away; 
and  oh  !  how  we  miss  the  soft  rain  that  soothes 
the  bitterness  of  woe,  and  makes  it  possible  for 
the  desert  places  of  the  heart  to  grow  green  and 
beautiful  again. 

McNeil  had  not  wept  at  her  grave.  He  could 
not  weep  for  his  child,  and  he  could  not  forget 
her.  For  who  can  say  to  the  heart,  Thou  shalt 
not  remember?  And  would  he  have  said  it? 
Did  the  thought  of  a  prolonged  sorrow  have  a 
certain  vague  terror  for  him?  Was  there  in  his 
secret  soul  a  determination  to  make  the  best  of 
what  had  happened,  —  to  say,  what  is  finished  is 
finished,  and  the  dead  are  dead? 

No;  McNeil  had  far  too  loyal  and  tender  a 
heart  to  accept  the  comfort  of  this  practical 
stoicism,  this  secret  defiance  of  God's  will. 
He  cherished  the  memory  of  his  child  by  night 
and  day.  Cherished  it  though  it  always  came 


176  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  Me  NEIL. 

with  a  charge  which  lay  like  a  stone  upon  his 
heart,  —  a  heavy  trust  which  he  dare  not  destroy, 
and  which  he  was  determined  not  to  accept. 

It  was  in  the  strip  of  paper  he  had  taken  from 
Helen's  dying  fingers.  It  was  only  a  few  words, 
but  the  request  in  them  was  so  stupendous  it 
haunted  him  constantly  for  an  answer. 

DEAR  FATHER,  —  Whatever  you  intended  to  give  me 
personally,  give  it,  I  entreat  you,  to  God's  poor. 

HELEN. 

To  give  to  the  poor  all  the  thousands  which 
he  had  intended  to  give  to  Helen !  He  could 
not  do  it!  He  could  not  do  it!  Helen  had 
not  known  what  she  was  asking.  It  was  a  dying 
sentiment  in  her  to  wish  it;  and  it  would  be 
a  foolish  superstition  in  him  to  regard  it.  But, 
oh,  how  that  slip  of  paper  tortured  him !  He 
put  it  away  in  the  most  secret  drawer  of  his 
secretary,  but  he  could  not  hide  it.  His  spirit 
ual  eyes  saw  it  clearly  and  continually,  saw  it 
in  the  broad  noontide,  saw  it  in  the  dark  mid 
night,  saw  it  when  he  sat  talking  with  Colin  by 
his  fireside,  saw  it  when  he  lay  on  his  bed  in 
the  loneliness  of  his  own  room. 

And  as  it  happened,  he  had  not  the  distrac- 


PARTING,  177 

tion  which  the  oversight  of  a  number  of  men 
had  given  him  for  nearly  two  years.  When  the 
fever  became  epidemic,  the  craftsmen  on  the 
new  hotel  had  been  dismissed,  and  work  on 
the  building  stopped  until  the  spring.  Little 
was  to  be  done  now  but  the  last  finishing  and 
the  furnishing,  and  for  these  things  there  would 
be  ample  time  before  the  season  for  opening 
it  arrived. 

So  that  he  had  no  special  employment  for 
his  hours.  He  wandered  about  the  castle,  and 
on  fine  days  persuaded  Colin  to  go  to  the 
moors  with  him.  But  neither  of  the  men  shot 
anything.  They  walked  mournfully  about  an 
hour  or  two,  and  came  home  chilled  and 
thoroughly  depressed  with  the  bleak  hopeless 
ness  of  their  tramp.  For  neither  the  laird  nor 
Colin  was  inclined  to  talk  of  Helen.  Both 
jealously  guarded  their  own  memories  of  the 
dead  girl.  Their  sorrow  was  yet  too  selfish  to 
share. 

But  toward  Christmas  these  solitary  reminis 
cences  had  to  give  place  in  some  measure  to 
a  real,  active,  living  anxiety,  in  which  both  par 
ticipated.  Grizelda  had  been  informed  of  her 
sister's  death,  and  had  written  a  long,  heart- 


178  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL, 

broken  and  heart-breaking  letter  to  her  father, 
in  which  she  bitterly  complained  of  her  inability 
to  come  to  him  in  his  loneliness  and  sorrow. 
"  He  won't  let  me  !  He  won't  let  me  !  I  can 
not  leave  without  his  permission !  He  would 
bring  me  back,  if  I  were  at  the  gate  of  the 
castle."  The  whole  letter  was  the  cry  of  a  soul 
almost  in  an  extremity  of  anguish,  and  Colin 
had  roused  himself  to  say  some  very  decided 
words  about  his  cousin's  position. 

True,  she  was  drinking  the  cup  her  own 
hands  had  mingled ;  but  that  was  the  last  of 
Colin's  meditations  on  the  subject.  He  thought 
of  her  as  Helen's  sister,  as  his  own  cousin,  as 
the  young  girl  who  had  been  his  companion 
and  friend ;  he  recalled  her  beauty,  her  good 
nature,  her  gay  temper  and  pretty  accomplish 
ments;  and  then  he  thought  of  Maxwell.  He 
was  angry  at  himself  that  he  had  ever  said  a 
word  in  his  favour;  he  remembered  now  many 
doubts  and  suspicions  against  him  to  which  it 
would  have  been  well  had  he  given  heed  and 
speech.  It  made  him  burn  with  indignation  to 
know  that  Grizelda  was  in  the  power  of  such 
a  man. 

On   Christmas   day  the    laird   and   he,    after 


PARTING.  1/9 

their  dinner,  sat  down  together.  The  laird  was 
on  one  side  of  the  hearth;  Colin  was  on  tn2 
other.  They  were  quite  silent  for  a  long  time, 
then  Colin,  who  had  been  thinking  of  Grizelda  in 
the  manner  indicated,  suddenly  rose,  and  walk 
ing  impatiently  about  the  half-lit  room  said : 

"  I  want  to  go  to  Rome,  uncle.  I  have  been 
thinking  of  Grizelda  until  I  am  scarcely  master 
of  myself.  I  am  sure  she  is  in  great  trouble." 

"  Poor  Grizelda !  It  is  just  two  years  since 
she  was  married.  A  sad  thing  !  a  sad  thing !  " 

"  And  a  year  ago  she  lay  at  the  point  of 
death!  Where  is  she  now?  In  what  circum 
stances?  We  have  not  heard  a  word  from  her 
since  that  pitiful  letter  after  — " 

"  I  know  !  I  remember  it !  I  thought  that  day 
a  living  sorrow  was  maybe  worse  than  a  dead 
one." 

"  Shall  I  go  and  see  her?  I  am  ready  at  any 
hour." 

"  I  wish  you  would,  Colin,  I  wish  you  would  ; 
still,  we  had  better  ask  what  Brodick  thinks.  It 
is  n't  a  light  thing  to  come  ever  so  little  be 
tween  a  man  and  his  wife  unless  there  are 
reasons  overt,  and  not  to  be  denied;  then 
who  would  go  for  my  child  quicker  than  I 


180  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

would?     And  who  would  meet  that  cowardly, 
cruel  wretch  as  gladly?" 

"And  he  seemed  to  me,  when  I  first  knew 
him,  so  handsome  and  agreeable,  I  thought  him 
a  very  fair  man." 

"  I  wonder  at  it,  Colin.  Handsome  as  he 
was,  I  saw  the  imbruted  serpent  of  selfishness 
in  him.  I  saw  the  cruelty  of  the  wolf  in  him. 
I  saw,  also,  that  he  was  full  of  vulpine  cunning. 
Even  the  gentle  Christ  called  such  a  one 
a  fox." 

"  Patience,  Laird,  patience !  Who  are  you 
calling  ill  names  at  the  Christmas-tide?" 

It  was  the  minister  who  spoke.  He  had 
entered  unobserved  by  the  excited  father,  and, 
in  spite  of  his  protestations,  had  listened  with 
sympathy  to  his  opinion  of  Maxwell. 

"  I  was  speaking  of  my  fine  son-in-law.  Colin 
thought  him  a  very  fair  man  once." 

"  We  have  to  take  men  as  they  seem  to  be, 
uncle;  and,  after  all,  what  is  a  man?" 

"  I  '11  tell  you  what  God  calls  a  man :  '  One 
that  executeth  judgment,  and  seeketh  the 
truth.' " 

"What  think  you,  Brodick,  of  Colin  going 
his  ain  self  to  see  after  Grizelda?  " 


PARTING.  l8l 

"  It  is  what  be  ought  to  do,  and  the  sooner 
the  better.  It  will  be  good  for  Colin,  too." 

"I  am  ready  to  go  for  Grizelda's  sake,  for 
I  believe  her  to  be  in  trouble.  My  own  trouble 
can  never  be  healed." 

"  My  dear  lad,  the  hand  of  Time,  which  is 
always  the  hand  of  God,  will  bring  you  resigna 
tion  —  yea,  even  happiness.  '  For  He  will  swal 
low  up  death  in  victory ;  and  the  Lord  God  will 
wipe  away  tears  from  off  all  faces.' " 


CHAPTER  X. 
GRIZELDA'S  HUSBAND. 

My  life 

Has  been  a  golden  dream  of  love  ; 
But  now  I  wake,  I  'in  like  a  merchant  roused 
From  soft  repose  to  see  his  vessel  sinking, 

And  all  his  wealth  cast  o'er. 

DHYDEN. 


rT~>WO  things  were  known  about  Grizelda. 
•*•  She  was  in  Rome,  and  she  was  unhappy. 
But  no  one  in  Edderloch  suspected  the  true 
cause  of  her  unhappincss.  The  circumstances 
which  had  made  her  so  miserable  at  the  Earl  of 
Lauder's  ball,  the  very  existence  of  Miss  Julia 
Casselis,  she  had  kept  in  her  own  heart  ;  though 
often  in  the  lonely  misery  of  the  months  that 
followed,  she  longed  to  write  to  Helen,  and  ask 
her  for  comfort  and  counsel. 

But  such  a  longing  was  always  powerfully 
combated,  and  finally  conquered,  by  the  pride 
and  reticence  of  her  nature.  She  did  not  wish 
even  Helen  to  know  how  miserably  she  had 


GRIZELDA'S  HUSBAND.  183 

been  deceived,  how  quickly  the  punishment  of 
her  disobedience  had  found  her  out,  how  truly 
she  was  repenting  at  her  leisure  the  marriage  so 
hastily  and  wilfully  contracted.  If  she  had  only 
granted  her  father's  final  request,  and  waited 
one  year,  she  had  told  herself  over  and  over, 
it  would  have  saved  her  a  lifetime  of  sorrow. 

And  it  was  not  only  in  this  negative  way  she 
looked  at  it.  She  felt  that  she  might  also  have 
been  very,  very  happy  under  other  circum 
stances.  Maxwell  not  only  gave  her  shame 
and  sorrow;  he  prevented  her  enjoying  the 
days  of  her  youth  and  beauty.  He  chilled  all 
her  little  triumphs.  He  deprived  her  of  all  the 
reasonable  falat  and  pleasure  which  are  the 
natural  results  of  her  position.  And  the  pre 
venters  of  happiness  are  the  cruellest  of  all 
tyrants.  Afflictions  from  the  hand  of  God, 
troubles  that  are  independent  of  will,  and  be 
yond  controul,  may  be  endured  with  resigna 
tion;  but,  oh,  how  resentful  the  heart  feels  to 
those  who  wilfully  and  maliciously  destroy  the 
daily  happiness  which  has  been  lovingly  trusted 
to  them ! 

It  was  in  this  direction  Grizelda's  bitterest 
feelings  lay.  She  was  young;  she  was  beauti- 


1 84  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  MCNEIL. 

ful ;  she  was  well-born ;  she  had  all  the  natural 
and  accidental  requirements  necessary  to  make 
her  a  happy  woman.  Every  day  and  every 
hour  Maxwell  trampled  upon  them.  After  he 
renewed  his  acquaintance  with  Miss  Casselis, 
Grizelda  soon  abandoned  all  hope  of  regaining 
her  influence  over  him.  A  distant  relationship 
and  an  old  intimacy  gave  him  numberless  op 
portunities  and  favours;  and  he  pressed  these 
with  such  tact  and  zeal  that  he  soon  became 
an  invaluable  aid  and  confidant,  not  only  to 
Miss  Casselis,  but  also  to  the  Countess  of 
Lauder. 

They  consulted  with  him  on  all  occasions. 
If  they  had  an  appointment  at  their  modiste's 
or  a  necessity  to  shop,  ne  was  their  patient 
cavalier  on  all  such  tiresome  excursions.  If 
there  was  a  dinner  or  a  ball  at  Lauder  House, 
Maxwell  assisted  them  to  arrange  its  details.  If 
they  went  visiting,  they  looked  to  him  for  those 
little  attentions  which  give  a  certain  dignity 
and  respect  to  visiting  ladies.  If  they  rode,  he 
was  generally  their  escort. 

The  countess  did  not  even  think  it  necessary 
to  call  on  Grizelda.  A  country  girl,  the 
daughter  of  a  Scotch  laird,  without  a  penny  of 


GRIZELDA'S  HUSBAND.  185 

fortune  !  How  she  pitied  poor  Maxwell  to  her 
friends !  Such  a  drawback  on  a  promising 
young  man.  It  was  too  bad.  How  did  it  hap 
pen?  Oh,  a  summer  in  some  Scotch  wilder 
ness,  where  Maxwell  had  bought  an  estate;  a 
pretty  face,  contiguity,  and  nothing  else  to  do. 
Half  the  miserable  and  unsuitable  marriages 
there  are  come  from  such  elements,  she  sighed. 
Was  Lady  Maxwell  in  London?  Yes.  A  fret 
ful,  nervous  invalid ;  made  a  very  good  appear 
ance  in  her  first  season,  but  could  not  stand  the 
demands  of  fashionable  life.  These  poor  coun 
try  gentry  never  could.  A  person  must  be  born 
in  the  purple  to  endure  the  weight  and  strain 
of  it. 

Nor  was  the  Countess  Lauder  at  all  ill-natured 
in  her  remarks.  Her  scornful  pity  was  not  for 
Grizelda  personally ;  it  was  for  the  weakness  of 
all  the  men  and  women  who  promoted  such  a 
set  of  uncomfortable  and  unsuitable  circum 
stances.  Julia  indorsed  her  aunt's  opinions 
with  the  generality  of  Maxwell's  discussers; 
to  himself  she  gave  the  much  more  seductive 
sympathy  of  sighs  and  smiles,  and  a  comforting 
familiarity,  which  was  easily  excused  on  the 
ground  of  their  distant  cousinship,  old  acquain- 


1 86  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

tance,  and  pity  for  the  matrimonial  blunder 
which  he  had  made. 

Such  a  course  of  treatment  would  have 
shaken  the  loyalty  of  an  affectionate  husband, 
but  when  the  husband  was  at  heart  disloyal  i's 
effect  was  completely  destructive.  And  per 
haps  the  saddest  part  of  all  such  wrongs  to  a 
wife  is  that  they  do  not  go  steadily,  rapidly, 
and  unrelentingly  on  to  their  legitimate  end. 

Maxwell's  shadowy  remorses,  his  moments  of 
pity,  his  passing  fits  of  what  he  chose  to  call 
love,  gave  the  poor  wife  attacks  of  baseless 
hope,  which  were  worse  than  attacks  of  fever. 
If  he  smiled  at  her,  if  he  spoke  with  anything 
like  courtesy,  if  he  spoke  at  all,  if  he  asked  her 
to  accompany  him  to  any  public  place  or  enter 
tainment,  all  Grizelda's  anger  vanished;  she 
forgave  him  at  once,  though  she  only  provoked 
his  contempt  by  suffering  him  to  see  how  happy 
he  made  her. 

And  in  these  torturing  alternations  and  sus 
penses  she  had  no  human  friend  or  confidant. 
Some  sad  wives,  in  a  situation  so  lonely  and 
trying,  have  found  a  silent  or  expressed  com 
fort  in  the  sympathy  of  the  servant  in  their  im 
mediate  attendance.  But  it  was  a  part  of  Lord 


GRIZELDA'S  HUSBAND.  187 

Maxwell's  domestic  tyranny  to  be  continually 
changing  Grizelda's  maid.  He  had  no  mind  to 
be  talked  over  by  two  women.  Besides,  no  one 
knew  into  what  house  a  lady's  maid  might  go ; 
he  was  determined  none  of  them  should  stay 
long  enough  in  his  establishment  to  tell  tales 
out  of  it. 

This  was  a  little  wrong;  but  a  few  of  such 
little  wrongs  insure  a  far  greater  and  more 
bitter  hatred  than  it  is  possible  for  a  single 
outrage,  however  unjust  and  cruel,  to  produce. 
Grizelda  shed  tears  of  mortification  over  this 
small  tyranny;  and  her  proud  heart  resented 
the  weakness  it  implied,  —  that  she  would  make 
a  friend  and  companion  of  her  servant. 

"  I !  who  have  not  even  told  my  sister  how 
wretched  you  make  me,"  she  said  to  him,  in 
dignantly,  one  day. 

"  Then  do  so  at  once.  Remember  that  I 
order  you  to  tell  your  sister  and  your  father." 

He  was  quite  sincere  in  his  command.  He 
hated  both  of  them.  And  it  was  part  of  Griz 
elda's  punishment  to  know  in  her  heart  that  she 
was  to  blame  in  a  great  measure  for  this  hatred. 
In  the  beginning  of  Maxwell's  courtship  she 
had  found  a  sentimental  pleasure  in  augmenting 


1 88  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL. 

the  opposition  to  their  love.  She  had  repeated 
words  not  intended  to  be  repeated;  she  had 
given  to  other  words  an  animus  more  hateful 
than  was  their  right.  And  now,  when  she 
would  fain  have  had  the  comfort  and  support 
of  her  own  kindred,  she  found  that  she  had 
built  a  wall  between  her  husband  and  them 
which  no  love  nor  patience  could  break  down. 

Things  were  in  this  wretched  position  when 
the  London  season  closed.  In  every  respect  it 
had  been  unfavourable  for  Grizelda.  Her  health 
had  failed  continually.  She  was  suffering  phy 
sically  as  well  as  mentally.  She  began  to  have 
strong  homesicknesses,  to  long  for  a  breath  of 
the  wild  Atlantic,  to  feel  the  breeze  come  down 
the  Jura  mountains  with  the  scent  of  the  gorse 
and  the  bog  myrtle  on  it;  to  have  haunting 
dreams  of  the  balsam  odours  in  the  fir  wood, 
and  the  green  shadows  where  she  had  lain 
among  the  ferns  and  brackens.  If  Maxwell 
would  only  go  back  to  Blairgowrie,  she  felt  as 
if  all  suffering  would  be  possible. 

One  evening,  when  their  future  movements 
were  still  undecided,  Maxwell  dined  at  home. 
She  hoped  something  from  his  presence,  hoped 
that  he  would  tell  her  that  they  were  going  to 


GRIZELDA'S  HUSBAND.  189 

Scotland ;  anywhere  would  be  better  than  Lon 
don.  Lauder  Castle  was  in  Fife;  that  was  far 
enough  from  Jura  to  rid  her  of  the  influence  of 
Miss  Casselis ;  and,  oh,  if  she  could  only  take 
her  life  out  of  that  shadow ! 

After  the  servants  left  the  room  she  waited 
anxiously  for  some  word  of  hope.  She  had 
indeed  come  to  a  point  when  any  change  would 
be  welcome.  But  Maxwell  moodily  sipped  his 
wine  in  silence.  If  he  turned  his  eyes  from  the 
portion  of  the  wall  he  appeared  to  be  studying, 
it  was  only  to  glance  with  satisfaction  at  the 
ruby  colour  in  a  freshly  filled  glass. 

When  nearly  an  hour  had  thus  passed  Gri- 
zelda  asked,  — 

"  Have  you  any  engagement  this  evening, 
Walter?  If  you  have  not,  will  you  take  me  for 
a  drive?  I  feel  stronger  than  usual,  I  think." 

He  did  not  answer  her  for  a  minute;  then 
he  turned  to  the  window  at  which  she  sat,  looked 
her  steadily  and  silently  in  the  face,  and  left 
the  room. 

No  words  could  have  so  deeply  and  hopelessly 
wounded  her.  Hard  words  may  be  borne,  but 
if  a  husband  never  raises  his  eyes  when  he 
hears  his  wife's  voice,  if  he  makes  his  cheek  like 


THE  If O  USE/ f  OLD  OF  MCNEIL. 

a  stone  when  she  kisses  it,  if  he  thinks  her  ques 
tions  not  worth  answering,  her  wishes  not  worth 
a  refusal,  if  his  step  to  her  is  like  lead,  and  his 
step  from  her  like  light,  what  language  can  be 
so  forcible  and  cruel? 

Grizelda  was  not  a  weeping  woman,  yet  her 
eyes  filled,  and  her  soul  looked  sadly  through 
them,  as  a  lovely  landscape  looks  blurred  and 
mournful  through  a  heavy  mist.  She  checked 
the  weakness  at  once ;  it  had  been  better  per 
haps  if  she  had  washed  the  wrong  away  in 
tears. 

For  the  first  time  she  deliberately  indulged 
the  thought  of  leaving  him.  Hitherto,  if  it  had 
suggested  itself,  she  had  put  it  positively  away. 
But  hope  was  nearly  dead.  The  question  to  be 
decided  in  her  mind  was  whether  to  return  to 
her  father,  or  go  to  some  place  where  she  was 
quite  unknown.  There  were  little  Highland 
hamlets  where  she  could  live  a  long  life  not 
uncomfortably  on  two  thousand  pounds.  Her 
father  and  Helen  would  lament  her,  but  it  was 
better  they  should  lament  her  as  dead  than 
trouble  their  hearts  with  her  living  misery. 
And  Colin  and  Helen  would  marry,  and  fill  the 
old  castle  with  new  life;  and  her  father  would 


GRIZELDA'S  HUSBAND.  19! 

be  comforted.  She  had  given  them  nothing 
but  trouble  for  two  years ;  they  would  forgive 
and  forget  her  faults  when  she  could  grieve 
them  no  more. 

To  these  thoughts  she  wandered  restlessly 
about.  The  butler  came  to  close  the  dining- 
room,  and  she  had  not  spirit  enough  to  delay 
him ;  she  trailed  her  heavy  feet  and  long  satin 
garment  slowly  up  stairs,  and  after  standing 
awhile  at  a  window  looking  into  the  square,  she 
turned  to  the  drawing-room.  It  was  a  large 
room,  or  rather  series  of  rooms,  covering  nearly 
the  whole  floor,  and  the  thought  of  its  space 
and  dimness  was  a  grateful  one.  The  door 
opened  noiselessly;  the  deep  soft  chairs  made 
her  suddenly  feel  how  tired  she  was.  She  sat 
down  in  one  of  them,  and  lulled  by  the  weari 
ness  of  repressed  emotion,  by  the  gray  twilight 
and  the  deep  stillness,  she  fell  asleep. 

No  one  looked  for  her,  or  felt  any  uneasiness 
as  to  where  she  was.  All  the  servants  under 
stood  my  lady's  very  small  importance ;  her 
maid,  a  new  one,  quite  familiar  with  the  utmost 
privileges  of  her  class,  thought  her  duty  fully 
done  when  she  answered  the  calls  made  upon 
her.  There  was  a  little  social  meeting  in  the 


192  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  MCNEIL. 

housekeeper's  room ;  at  that  hour  Lord  and 
Lady  Maxwell  were  the  most  unimportant  per 
sons  in  their  home. 

It  was  long  after  midnight  when  Grizelda's 
soul  came  back  to  her.  It  had  been  at  Ed- 
derloch,  had  wandered  through  all  the  pleasant 
places  of  the  castle,  kissed  the  laird  and  Helen 
as  they  lay  sleeping,  and  then  in  a  fisherman's 
boat  on  the  Jura  Sound  been  soothed  with  the 
cradling  motion  of  the  waves  and  the  chant  of 
the  men  at  the  fishing,  — 

'"Briskly  blows  the  evening  gale, 

Fresh  and  free  it  blows  ; 
Blessings  on  the  fishing-boat  — 

How  merrily  she  goes  ! 
Christ  He  loved  the  fishermen 

Walking  by  the  sea, 
How  he  blessed  the  fishing-boats, 

Down  in  Galilee !  " 

The  familiar  melody  was  in  her  ears  and 
almost  on  her  lips  when  she  awoke;  she  was 
stronger,  and  her  heart  was  calm  and  rested. 
She  stood  up  and  remembered  all  in  an  instant. 
But  she  had  lit  no  light,  and  there  was  a  dim 
one  in  the  farthest  room.  She  did  not  think  of 
walking  softly,  or  of  avoiding  the  ottomans  and 
stands  which  encumbered  the  floor.  But 


GRIZELDA'S  HUSBAND.  193 

did  avoid  them ;  and  still  as  a  spirit,  she  reached 
the  point  which  commanded  the  lighted  room. 

Lord  Maxwell  was  there.  He  sat  at  a  table 
with  his  elbow  on  it,  and  his  head  in  his  hand, 
lost  in  thought.  She  watched  his  face  as  his 
angel  might  have  watched  it,  looking  anxiously 
for  the  good  there,  sorrowful  over  the  evil.  He 
was  in  evening  dress,  and  looked  exceedingly 
handsome.  Her  heart  grew  tender  toward  him. 
She  was  uncertain  whether  to  go  silently  away 
or  to  speak. 

As  she  hesitated,  he  touched  a  case  lying  on 
the  table  beneath  his  eyes.  She  had  not  noticed 
it  before,  but  surely  she  knew  it.  Was  it  not 
the  case  of  the  likeness  which  had  been  taken 
of  her  during  those  happy  weeks  of  her  first 
season  when  she  was  a  bride,  beautiful  and  be 
loved?  What  was  he  going  to  do  with  it?  She 
moved  into  the  shadow;  she  was  determined 
now  to  see  his  inmost  thought  of  her. 

She  watched  with  her  soul  in  her  eyes,  and 
her  heart  beating  at  her  lips.  "  It  is  a  righteous 
curiosity,"  she  thought,  "  for  if  he  looks  kindly 
at  that  pretty  remembrance  of  me,  I  will  still 
hope;  I  will  still  remain  by  his  side;  I  will 
bear  everything.  I  will  make  no  complaint 
13 


194  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

even  to  God.  I  will  only  ask  Him  to  give  me 
the  power  to  win  back  the  love  I  have  lost" 

While  she  was  thus  musing,  Maxwell  also  had 
his  own  thoughts.  For  some  minutes  he  sat 
with  the  case  in  his  hand,  unopened.  Then  he 
slowly  pressed  the  spring,  and  Grizelda  said,  — 

"  My  face  is  before  him  !  " 

She  was  so  eager  to  read  his  feelings  that  she 
stood  on  tiptoe,  slightly  bending  forward  with 
outstretched  hands.  For  a  moment  the  tension 
was  all  she  could  bear.  Then  she  saw  him 
stoop  to  the  pictured  face  and  kiss  it,  —  kiss  it  as 
he  had  kissed  her  in  the  sunlight  and  the  moon 
light  when  first  they  loved  each  other. 

She  was  able  to  delay  no  longer.  With  a 
cry  of  delight,  she  sprang  forward.  Then  Max 
well  leaped  to  his  feet,  and  the  instantaneous 
change  in  his  face  froze  her  where  she  stood  as 
completely  as  the  summer  streamlet  is  chained 
by  the  winter  ice. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

AGAINST    HER   LIFE. 

If  marriage  is  not  an  entire  union,  it  is  the  most  complete 
isolation. 

The  graves  of  the  heart  for  which  there  is  no  resurrection. 

My  untouched  honor  !  I  but  wish  in  vain. 

The  fleece,  once  by  the  dyer  stained, 

Never  again  its  whiteness  gained. 

MAXWELL  sprang  to  Grizelda  with  an  in 
credible  passion.  He  grasped  her  hands 
with  a  strength  that  made  her  moan  with  pain. 
"How  dare  you  watch  me?"  he  cried;  and 
his  voice  was  thick  and  low  with  the  fury  in  his 
heart 

"  You  hurt  me,  Walter !  You  make  me  sick 
—  I  shall  faint !  " 

"  I  wish  you  would  die  !     Why  don't  you?  " 

"  I  will  go  to  my  father." 

"  You  will  go  with  me  to  Paris ;  this  day  at 
noon  we  shall  start  You  have  ten  hours  to 
prepare.  Go! " 


196  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  MCNEIL. 

He  flung  her  hands  from  him  and  turned 
away.  She  stopped  him  with  a  gesture  so  im 
perative  that  for  a  moment  he  was  compelled  to 
obey  it. 

"  Tell  me  one  thing.  I  will  ask  no  other 
explanation.  Why  did  you  kiss  my  picture  as 
you  did  a  moment  ago,  and  then  turn  on  me 
myself  like  a  —  wild  beast?" 

The  comparison  came  from  her  lips  involun 
tarily,  suggested  by  her  soul  in  the  moment's 
pause.  He  gnashed  his  teeth  at  it,  and  then 
burst  into  a  low  paroxysm  of  chuckling,  mock 
ing  laughter.  She  stood  watching  him  with 
terror  and  hatred.  At  length  he  turned  the 
laughter  into  speech. 

"  Your  picture  !  You  thought  I  was  kissing 
your  picture ! "  He  seized  her  wrist  and 
dragged  her  to  the  table.  "  Your  picture ! 
Look  at  it,  my  lady !  "  And  he  forced  it  under 
her  frightened  face. 

Oh,  how  lovely  were  the  red,  pouting  lips ! 
and  the  love-darting  eyes !  and  the  slim  form, 
straight  and  stately  as  a  young  fir-tree !  But  it 
was  the  face  and  the  form  of  Julia  Casselis. 

She  closed  her  eyes  and  turned  away  her 
head. 


AGAINST  HER  LIFE.  197 

"  Look  at  it !  " 

"  I  will  not     I  cannot." 

"  Then  go  to  your  room.  And  keep  your 
eyes  and  your  ears  shut  forever  about  my 
affairs." 

"  Oh,  Walter,  can  I  never  more  hope  to 
please  you? " 

"  Can  a  burnt-out  fire  be  rekindled?" 

Then  she  lifted  her  head  and  looked  with 
proud  reproach  at  him.  "  I  have  no  more  love 
left  for  you.  You  are  not  worthy  of  it." 

She  went  away  with  the  words.  She  was  ut 
terly  miserable ;  for  she  had  obtained  the  thing 
she  had  been  determined  to  have,  and  she  had 
found  it  false  and  worthless. 

Misery  travels  free  through  all  the  earth. 
From  Paris  to  Switzerland,  up  the  Rhine  and 
down  the  Rhine,  wherever  Grizelda  journeyed, 
wherever  she  tarried,  misery  was  her  com 
panion.  She  was  in  ill  health ;  she  was  averse 
to  movement,  and  suffered  during  it;  but  she 
was  in  the  power  of  a  tyrant  who  never  con 
sidered  the  rights  or  feelings  of  any  one  when 
they  crossed  his  own  inclinations. 

And  her  wan  face  and  gradual  emaciation 
were  annoying  to  him;  for  he  hated  the  sight 


198  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL. 

of  sickness,  and  resented  its  claims  upon  his 
consideration. 

But,  as  yet,  he  sinned  with  a  kind  of  decorum. 
Before  the  servants  of  the  household  he  affected 
the  attention  and  sympathy  due  to  his  wife's 
^position;  yet,  if  left  alone  with  Grizelda,  he 
would  permit  a  sentence  to  remain  unfinished, 
or  finish  it  with  a  sneer,  rather  than  suffer  her 
to  imagine  that  there  was  any  sincerity  in  his 
solicitude  for  her  comfort. 

If  she  had  been  one  of  those  naturally  vulgar 
women  who  are  determined  to  have  their  say, 
whose  tongues  and  tears  would  have  blamed  her 
husband,  and  defended  herself  before  all  and 
sundry  who  came  in  contact  with  their  lives,  she 
might,  perhaps,  have  kept  his  determined  and 
cunning  cruelties  somewhat  in  controul.  For  it 
is  a  fact  that  some  wrongs  are  so  mean,  so  un 
fair,  so  sinister  and  ignoble,  that  they  cannot  be 
met  with  any  weapons  but  such  as  are  as  abject 
as  themselves;  and  as  Grizelda  could  not  de 
grade  her  womanhood  by  scolding  retaliations, 
by  angry  complainings,  by  contemptible  little 
plans  to  secure  a  false  sympathy  from  servants, 
—  as  she  could  not  defend  herself  with  ignoble 
weapons,  she  was  at  the  mercy  of  the  ignoble. 


AGAINST  HER  LIFE.  199 

The  attitude  she  had  taken  on  that  last  night 
in  her  London  home  she  maintained.  She  had 
no  more  tears  or  love  left  for  her  husband ;  he 
was  unworthy  of  them;  and  she  accepted  the 
lot  she  had  chosen  for  herself  with  a  despairing 
calmness  which  put  his  every  word  and  look  on 
the  same  level.  A  kindness  from  him  was  now 
as  repulsive  as  cruelty.  She  had  passed  the 
line  where  even  self-deception  was  possible. 

She  knew  quite  well  that  their  various  move 
ments  during  the  summer,  their  forced  journeys, 
their  tiresome  delays,  had  all  been  somehow  or 
other  for  the  purpose  of  crossing  the  Lauder 
party,  and  obtaining  a  shorter  or  longer  meet 
ing  with  Miss  Casselis.  She  knew  when  these 
meetings  took  place ;  a  score  of  small  incidents 
advised  her.  For  sin,  blinded  by  passion,  is 
foolish  as  an  ostrich,  and  Maxwell  invariably 
betrayed  himself  by  the  restlessness  or  the  ex 
pectation  of  his  manner ;  by  his  unusual  care  in 
dress ;  yes,  even  by  a  passing  anxiety  about  his 
wife's  condition. 

He  would  say  to  his  courier,  — 

"  It  is  very  inconvenient  to  wait  here,  but 
Lady  Maxwell  looks  so  ill  I  think  it  necessary 
to  give  her  a  few  days'  rest." 


20O  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL 

Usually  he  deceived  his  attendants;  they 
spoke  together  of  his  thoughtfulness  and  care. 
But  he  never  deceived  Grizelda,  and  very  soon 
the  courier  was  able  to  add  circumstances 
together,  and  to  predicate  positively  that  when 
ever  Lord  Maxwell  made  one  of  these  un 
expected  delays,  the  Earl  of  Lauder  and  his 
family  were  somewhere  in  the  vicinity. 

Often  when  a  girl,  Grizelda  had  sat  with  her 
eyes  fixed  on  her  atlas,  dreaming  of  the  days 
when  these  old  storied  cities  should  be  a  happy 
pleasure-ground  for  her.  She  could  hardly 
keep  back  tears  when  she  remembered  her 
school-room,  and  the  gay  hours  she  had  spent 
there  planning  with  her  companions  —  planning 
without  destiny  the  good  times  they  were  to 
have  in  them. 

Ah,  she  had  reckoned  up  her  happiness  then 
without  asking,  "Who  is  to  be  my  companion?" 
Here  were  the  cities  she  had  made  little  ro 
mances  about,  —  the  stately  palaces,  the  ancient 
market-places,  the  grand  cathedrals,  the  irresis 
tible  bazaars,  —  and  her  heart  and  her  feet  were 
too  weary  to  tread  them. 

They  rested  finally  in  Rome.  The  Lauders 
had  determined  to  winter  there,  and  Maxwell 


AGAINST  HER  LIFE.  2OI 

was  in  the  same  mind.  The  earl  was  an  enthu 
siast  on  the  subject  of  numismatics,  and  he 
anticipated  completing  in  Rome  his  collection 
of  medals.  The  countess  and  Miss  Cassclis 
had  interests  quite  as  absorbing.  The  one 
expected  a  kind  of  leadership  among  the  Eng 
lish  residents;  the  other  expected  not  only 
many  new  lovers,  but  also  the  dangerous  ado 
ration  of  an  old  lover  who  had  the  charm  of 
forbidden  pleasure  to  her. 

Grizelda  understood  the  circumstances  in 
which  she  was  placed.  She  knew  that  she 
could  not  alter  or  controul  them.  She  had  no 
desire  left  to  oppose  them.  Her  last  appeal 
had  been  made,  unless,  indeed,  a  child,  —  his 
own  child,  —  might  speak  for  her. 

Maxwell  rented  an  old  palace,  a  forsaken 
home  of  decayed  nobles,  chill  and  comfortless 
in  spite  of  its  fine  marbles  and  antique  tapestries, 
and  so  large  that  they  could  occupy  only  a 
portion  of  one  wing.  But  the  strange  old 
crumbling  rooms  were  a  great  delight  to  Gri 
zelda.  They  filled  her  not  only  with  a  soft 
melancholy,  but  also  with  a  kind  of  resignation. 
What  did  it  matter?  At  the  last  the  noblest 
and  the  happiest  lives  come  to  an  end.  The 


202  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL. 

thing  is  to  live  worthy  of  the  end.  Among 
the  fair-pictured  faces  on  the  walls  she  selected 
one  who  she  was  sure  had  seen,  as  she  had, 
sorrow  crumble  her  youth  to  pieces  before  her 
eyes.  She  sat  down  with  it;  she  bade  her  soul 
talk  with  it ;  she  asked  it  after  its  destiny ;  she 
grew  so  familiar  with  it  that  she  could  scarcely 
have  feared  if  its  angel  had  suddenly  appeared 
to  her.  She  never  thought  of  anything  incon 
gruous  in  this  shadowy  friendship;  for  as 
suredly,  whether  we  recognize  the  fact  or  not, 
there  are  souls  to  whom  we  are  spiritually 
related. 

And  this  mystical  companionship  comforted 
her  wonderfully.  She  grew  strong  and  almost 
happy.  In  a  month  she  was  so  changed  that 
Maxwell,  meeting  her  one  day  upon  the  main 
stair,  was  struck  with  her  beauty.  If  it  had 
not  been  his  own  wife,  he  would  have  felt  a 
strong  admiration  for  her.  As  it  was,  he  stood 
still  as  if  to  detain  her.  She  coloured  vividly, 
then  turned  pale  as  death,  and  passed  onward. 
They  had  not  spoken  for  a  month ;  he  had  not 
seen  her  for  nearly  as  long.  So  he  had  a  few 
unpleasant  moments,  for  conscience  dies  hard  in 
the  most  wicked  of  men. 


AGAINST  HER  LIFE.  2O3 

But  whatever  the  better  feeling  was,  it  changed 
very  rapidly  to  one  of  anger  at  her  appearance. 
She  looked  happy !  The  thought  was  disagree 
able  to  him.  "  I  shall  have  her  watched." 

Wronging  her  every  hour  of  the  day,  he  was 
yet  so  flagrantly  unjust  as  to  stamp  with  indig 
nation  when  his  own  wicked  heart  suggested 
that  she  might  be  wronging  him.  He  did  her  the 
further  injustice  of  measuring  her  integrity  by 
that  of  women  not  to  be  named  with  her  name. 

"  They  are  all  alike  !  "  he  muttered.  "  Julia 
loves  me,  and  does  not  mind  wronging  Gri- 
zelda.  Grizelda  evidently  loves  some  one  else, 
and  does  not  mind  wronging  me.  Fool  that  I 
was  to  trust  her ;  did  she  not  wrong  her  father 
before  she  married  me?  " 

It  is  so  easy  for  a  wicked  heart  to  think  evil, 
so  almost  impossible  for  it  to  conceive  good, 
that  Maxwell's  suspicions  were  as  natural  to  him 
as  breathing.  "  Besides,"  he  argued,  "  what 
has  renewed  her  beauty?  Love,  of  course. 
Love  for  me  ?  No,  she  hates  me !  What  fol 
lows?  I  shall  see.  And  she  was  going  out 
also!  Going  out — what  for?  That,  also,  I 
shall  find  out!" 

It  was  a  new  interest  to  him,  and  one  which 


204  ThE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

he  entered  into  with  a  wicked  avidity.  Dis 
guise  was  easy  to  him;  he  assumed  one  so 
perfect  that  Grizelda  might  have  spoken  to  him 
and  yet  left  him  undetected.  Then  he  began 
to  follow  her.  But  the  path  in  which  her  feet 
trod  was  so  pure  that  it  soon  hurt  him. 

She  led  him  first  to  an  old  church,  where  she 
sat  for  an  hour  motionless  before  a  picture  of 
the  crucifixion.  As  the  light  faded,  she  went 
and  stood  by  the  lifted  cross,  as  if  to  get  closer 
to  the  Christ  hanging  there  forsaken  in  the 
dark.  He  watched  her  until  she  re-entered  the 
carriage  she  had  come  in.  Then  he  followed 
her,  not  only  straight  to  her  own  residence,  but 
also  to  her  own  room. 

It  was  necessary  that  he  should  find  a  cause 
for  anger,  and  he  found  it  in  the  supposition 
that  she  had  been  praying  in  a  Roman  Catholic 
church.  And  when  conscience  is  used  as  a 
weapon  for  wounding,  it  is  amazing  how  tender 
it  becomes.  Maxwell  grew  suddenly  jealous 
for  the  Protestant  religion.  His  people  had 
always  been  on  the  side  of  John  Knox,  and  he 
would  not  have  his  forefathers  insulted  by  his 
wife  praying  before  pictures  in  a  popish  place 
of  worship.  It  was  simple  idolatry. 


AGAINST  HER  LIFE. 

He  made  a  special  visit  to  her  apartments  the 
next  day  to  tell  her  so.  She  lifted  her  eyes 
once  to  his  face,  and  then  let  them  fall  on  the 
figure  she  was  painting.  It  happened  to  be  a 
copy  of  a  famous  Madonna.  The  glance  con 
fused  him.  He  thought  he  had  some  scathing 
words  ready  for  her,  and  he  forgot  his  argu 
ments.  He  began  to  bluster,  but  the  calm  of 
the  pictured  face  spoke  to  Grizelda's  heart. 
The  Mother  of  Sorrows  had  found  the  conso 
lation  of  God.  For  her  also  it  was  surely  suffi 
cient.  She  hardly  heeded  the  storm  of  words 
about  her,  until  it  closed  with  an  order. 

Then  she  answered,  "  It  is  incredible  that  a 
Scotchwoman,  born  in  mother  kirk,  should  pray 
to  a  picture.  You  know  it !  I  have  need  of 
stronger  help.  I  seek  it  constantly,  even  the 
help  of  the  God  of  my  fathers.  You  think  it 
gives  me  pleasure  to  look  at  the  paintings,  so 
you  refuse  me  the  pleasure.  I  will  not  go  to 
that  church  any  more." 

"  You  will  not  go  to  any  Roman  church  for 
any  purpose." 

"  There  is  the  English  church.  I  can  go 
there." 

"What  are  you   painting?      One    of   those 


2O6  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  MCNEIL. 

Virgin  Marys?  Just  what  I  expected.  I  will 
have  no  such  work  in  my  house.  It  is  a  point 
of  conscience  with  me." 

"  I  will  put  it  aside.  I  have  other  studies." 
She  took  it  into  an  inner  room  and  did  not 
return.  In  a  minute  or  two,  he  felt  as  if  he  had 
been  dismissed,  and  that  was  an  indignity  he 
could  not  submit  to.  With  impetuous  anger  he 
followed.  Grizelda  was  on  a  low  bed.  Her 
face  was  as  white  as  its  draperies.  Her  eyes 
were  closed.  She  looked  so  like  death  .that  the 
words  on  his  lips  were  frozen.  Without  being 
conscious  of  the  deference,  he  went  away,  softly 
closing  the  door  as  doors  are  closed  upon 
death. 

He  only  followed  her  once  more.  She  went 
to  the  studio  of  Signor  Donata,  an  aged  painter 
honoured  and  beloved  throughout  Rome.  He 
also  entered  the  studio,  looked  at  the  pictures, 
and  perceived  that  Grizelda  was  taking  a  lesson 
from  Donata.  She  sat  in  a  corner  of  the  large 
room,  shielded  by  her  easel  and  by  the  drapery 
of  an  alcove.  But  Donata  directed  her  at  inter 
vals  ;  and  Grizelda's  face  was  so  calm,  so  happy, 
and  so  interested  that  she  seemed  to  have  grown 
ten  years  younger. 


AGAINST  HER  LIFE.  2O/ 

He  reflected  much  on  this  circumstance. 
Donata  did  not  teach  her  for  nothing.  Where 
did  she  get  the  money?  Was  she  in  communi 
cation  with  her  father?  He  felt  that  in  this 
suspicion  he  had  a  real  grievance.  And  Gri- 
zelda's  heart  failed  her  for  a  moment  when 
Maxwell  came  to  her  for  an  explanation. 

"  I  hear  you  are  taking  lessons  from  Donata. 
Does  he  teach  you  without  money?" 

"  No.     I  pay  him  two  guineas  a  lesson." 

"Where  do  you  get  the  money?  " 

"  When  I  left  home  I  had  money  which  my 
father  gave  me." 

"  You  have  no  right  to  money  that  I  am  not 
aware  of.  Pretty  confidence  that  is  1  From 
your  marriage  day,  then,  you  have  deceived 
me.  How  much  have  you?" 

She  went  to  a  drawer  for  her  purse  and  laid 
it  before  him. 

"  That  is  all  I  have  left  out  of  fifty  pounds. 
You  can  take  it  if  you  think  it  is  yours." 

He  lifted  the  slight  trifle  of  silk  and  beads 
and  counted  the  change  in  it.  Twenty-two 
pounds  and  six  shillings.  He  threw  the  purse 
upon  her  toilet-table  and  put  the  money  in  his 
pocket. 


2O8  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL, 

"  I  have  paid  Donata  for  ten  lessons.  I  have 
taken  three.  Can  I  finish  the  lessons  paid 
for?" 

"  Of  course  you  will  finish  them.  Painting 
is  about  the  only  thing  you  can  do ;  and  I  am 
not  going  to  let  any  Italian  mountebank  make 
fourteen  pounds  out  of  me." 

After  this,  without  any  distinct  effort  to  do 
so,  Grizelda  was  aware  that  she  timed  all  her 
simple  duties  and  pleasures  so  as  best  to  avoid 
her  husband.  In  the  household  the  Italian 
servants  were  aware  of  some  matrimonial  cold 
ness,  but  their  ideas  on  the  subject  were  much 
more  indefinite  than  those  of  English  men  and 
women.  In  society  it  was  understood  that 
Lady  Maxwell  was  not  in  a  condition  of  health 
that  warranted  her  taking  any  part  in  public 
festivities.  And  if  people  are  bent  upon  retiring 
from  the  world,  the  world  has  not  the  time  nor 
the  disposition  to  urge  them  from  their  retire 
ment.  Lady  Maxwell  soon  became  a  mere 
name,  —  a  name  less  and  less  spoken  as  people 
got  used  to  seeing  her  lord  always  alone,  or  else 
in  attendance  upon  Miss  Casselis. 

Toward  the  end  of  October  an  event  oc 
curred  which  was  destined  to  be  a  very  impor- 


AGAINST  HER  LIFE.  209 

tant  one  to  Grizelda.  One  morning,  early, 
there  was  an  unusual  outcry  in  the  kitchen 
offices  of  the  palace,  and  while  Grizelda  was 
wondering  what  might  be  the  meaning  of  it,  her 
maid,  a  Roman  woman,  came  to  seek  her  help. 

Poor  Caterina  was  ill,  was  dying.  Had  milady 
any  medicine  good  for  her? 

Grizelda  went  to  look  at  Caterina.  She  was 
a  pretty  young  girl  who  had  attended  for  some 
weeks  to  Grizelda's  fine  laces  and  lawns,  and 
occasionally,  when  there  was  one  of  those  sud 
den  changes  which  Maxwell  insisted  upon, 
served  also  as  a  temporary  lady's  maid. 

The  girl  was  very  ill.  She  lay  on  a  stone 
bench  in  the  great  comfortless  kitchen,  drawing 
every  breath  in  an  agony.  Among  the  fishers 
in  Edderloch,  Grizelda  had  seen  similar  cases. 
She  knew  at  once  that  it  was  an  acute  inflamma 
tion  of  the  lungs,  brought  on  by  some  long 
fatigue  and  exposure,  and  that  the  illness  was 
likely  to  be  severe  and  tedious. 

At  the  very  moment  her  maid  appealed  to 
her,  she  had  been  feeling  how  aimless,  how 
empty  of  all  opportunities  for  good,  was  her 
life ;  and  lo  !  here  at  her  hand  was  a  very  work 
of  love  and  mercy. 

M 


2IO  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  MCNEIL. 

'  Without  a  moment's  hesitation  she  ordered 
Caterina  to  be  taken  to  a  comfortable  room. 
She  sent  for  her  own  physician,  and  entered 
with  all  her  heart  into  the  duty  of  saving  the 
girl's  life.  It  was  a  hard  battle;  there  were 
days  when  it  seemed  a  hopeless  battle. 

But  after  many  week's  faithful  and  affection 
ate  care,  Caterina  was  again  among  her  com 
panions.  Her  gratitude  was  not  only  deep  and 
sincere,  it  was  demonstrative.  She  had  not 
been  schooled  to  put  the  pedal  down  on  all 
feeling,  and  reduce  emotion  to  one  placid  tone. 
Caterina's  love  and  hate,  her  anger  and  her 
gratitude,  were  very  real  things,  and  she  was 
continually  looking  for  some  way  of  expressing 
them. 

Her  lover  shared  all  her  thoughts.  He  was  a 
handsome  young  Roman,  loving  a  country  life, 
but  drawn  to  the  city  because  the  only  place 
where  it  was  possible  for  him  to  get  money,  —  a 
want  Peppo  felt  to  be  the  supreme  one  of  exis 
tence.  Maxwell  had  noticed  him  frequently 
hanging  about  the  palace,  and  there  was  some 
thing  in  the  man's  face  which  attracted  him. 
Souls  understand  each  other.  Maxwell's  soul 
said  to  him :  If  ever  you  need  a  tool  for  a  deed 


AGAINST  HER  LIFE.  211 

of  darkness,  you  can  buy  that  one;  he  has  a 
price  for  any  crime  against  a  foreigner.  For 
Peppo  quieted  his  conscience  with  this  broad 
distinction,  —  only  against  foreigners  and  here 
tics  would  he  use  his  stiletto. 

When  Caterina  recovered,  she  talked  much  to 
her  lover  of  Grizelda  and  Grizelda's  husband. 
Peppo  had  his  own  thoughts  on  the  matter. 
Maxwell  read  them  on  the  man's  face.  Long 
before  they  said  a  word  together  they  under 
stood  each  other.  *  And  whenever  Maxwell 
went  out  of  the  house,  and  whenever  he  re 
turned  to  it,  Peppo  was  lounging  somewhere 
near  the  portal.  Sometimes  he  doffed  his  gay 
tasselled  cap,  sometimes  he  only  sent  the  Eng 
lish  lord  a  glance  of  intelligence.  Yet  no  num 
ber  of  words  could  have  made  Maxwell  better 
understand  that  Peppo  knew  the  secret  wish  of 
his  heart,  and  was  ready  to  grant  it  —  for 
money. 

But  nothing  good  or  bad  happens  at  once; 
there  must  be  preparations.  The  flower  is 
long  budding,  but  in  some  secret  hour,  when  no 
mortal  sees,  it  becomes  a  rose.  A  man  has  a 
noble  thought,  he  muses  over  it  for  years,  then, 
in  some  diviner  moment,  he  writes  his  name  to 


212  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  MCNEIL. 

a  piece  of  paper,  the  gold  answers  it,  and  the 
hospital  or  the  college  grows  to  its  perfect 
intent. 

So  it  is  with  evil.  Judas  had  long  pondered 
the  possibility  of  betraying  his  master.  But 
with  the  eating  of  that  sop,  the  Devil  took 
possession  of  him,  and  he  went  out  and  did  the 
deed  of  hell. 

Six  months  after  his  marriage,  Maxwell  had 
begun  to  regret  it,  —  to  wish  he  had  never  seen 
Grizelda.  Dissatisfaction  quickly  grew  to  hate. 
Hate  is  the  mother  of  murder;  and  before  he 
saw  Peppo,  the  desire  to  murder  Grizelda  was 
hot  and  living  in  his  soul.  It  was  only  waiting 
its  full  hour.  Both  men  were  aware  of  that  fact. 

Near  the  end  of  November,  Grizelda  heard 
of  her  sister's  death.  Maxwell  was  out  when 
the  letter  came,  but  she  was  determined  to  see 
him  that  night.  And  while  waiting  his  return 
she  helped  her  maid  to  pack  a  few  necessary 
garments  for  a  journey;  for  she  felt  that  she 
must  go  to  her  father  and  comfort  him.  Un 
fortunately,  in  her  sorrow  she  forgot  her  own 
appearance.  Her  eyes,  red  and  swollen  with 
weeping,  her  undressed  hair,  the  loose  white 
at  that  late  hour  she  had  assumed, 


A  GAINST  HER  LIFE.  2 1 3 

though  all  in  absolute  fitting  with  the  time 
and  circumstances,  filled  Maxwell  with  angry 
repulsion. 

He  had  just  left  Julia  Casselis.  She  had  been 
clothed  in  lustrous  silk  and  sparkling  jewels. 
Amid  the  pertume  and  beauty  of  flowers,  to  the 
intoxicating  strains  of  Chopin's  waltzes,  he  had 
spoken  softly  to  her  of  what  might  have  been 
but  for  his  unfortunate  marriage ;  and  she  had 
looked  the  sympathy  she  still  hesitated  to  ex 
press  in  words. 

His  heart  was  on  fire  with  his  unholy  love, 
when  Grizelda,  white,  and  full  of  sorrow,  came 
to  him.  Nothing  is  so  annoying  and  irritating 
to  a  man  as  tears.  If  any  woman  has  been 
taught  differently,  let  her  adjure  the  fallacy  as 
soon  as  possible.  If  Grizelda  had  put  on  her 
richest  robe  and  assumed  the  stately  manner  so 
becoming  to  her,  she  might  have  won  the  favour 
she  asked ;  but  her  beauty  was  under  a  cloud, 
and  her  distracted  air  put  him  at  once  on  the 
defensive.  When  she  said,  "  Helen  is  dead ! 
My  sister  is  dead !  "  and  then  burst  again  into 
passionate  weeping,  he  resented  the  intrusion  of 
death  and  disagreeable  thoughts  into  his  own 
ecstatic  dreams  of  Julia  and  love. 


214  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL. 

"  I  am  sorry  it  is  Helen,"  he  said  bitterly. 
"  If  it  had  only  been  you !  " 

"  Oh,  I  wish  it  had  !     I  wish  it  had !  " 

"  For  once  we  perfectly  agree." 

"  Walter,  let  me  go !  Let  me  go  to  father ! 
He  is  heart-broken." 

"  You  would  only  make  him  worse ;  you  are 
such  a  miserable,  wretched  creature.  If  a  man 
was  in  the  seventh  heaven  of  delight,  you  would 
drag  him  down  to  where  you  lie  grovelling  all 
day.  Go  to  your  own  apartments !  I  am  weary 
of  you !  " 

"  Then  let  me  go  to  father !  For  God's  sake 
let  me  go  !  " 

"  Go  to  your  own  apartments !  " 

The  sight  of  her  tears,  her  anguish,  her  de 
spair,  was  to  Maxwell  what  the  sop  was  to  the 
great  murderer.  The  Devil  entered  into  him. 
He  rang  violently  for  Grizelda's  maid,  and  put 
ting  on  his  hat,  left  the  palace. 

He  had  seen  Peppo  as  he  entered.  When  he 
passed  again  through  the  grim  old  portal, 
through  which  so  much  sin  and  sorrow  had 
passed,  the  man  was  smoking  in  the  moonlight 
Maxwell  spoke  to  him,  and  Peppo  rose,  flung 
his  cigarette  away,  and  stood  attentive. 


AGAINST  HER  LIFE.  21$ 

"  What  is  your  name?  " 

"  Peppo,  Milord." 

"  I  have  not  seen  you  for  two  days." 

"  I  have  been  about  my  business." 

"  Ah !  what  is  your  business?  " 

Peppo  shrugged  his  shoulders  expressively. 

"Secret?" 

"  As  the  grave,  Milord,"  emphasizing  the 
word  "  grave." 

"Why  do  you  stay  around  my  house  so 
much?" 

"  I  am  waiting,  perhaps  Milord  might  want 
me ;  besides,  there  is  a  pretty  girl  whom  —  " 

"  Don't  marry  her.  To  marry  is  to  put  your 
self  in  hell !  " 

Peppo  shrugged  his  shoulders  again. 

"  Perhaps ;  but  there  is  a  way  out  of  that 
hell." 

"  If  you  can  show  me  such  a  way,  then  I 
will  —  " 

"Shall  we  talk  inside,  Milord?     It  is  safer." 

They  went  in  together.  They  went  into 
Maxwell's  private  room,  and  they  talked  the 
night  away;  that  is,  Maxwell  talked.  He 
was  drinking  brandy,  and  he  soon  felt  its  im- 
bruting  influence.  He  wanted  Grizelda  "put 


2l6  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

where  he  would  never  see  her  or  hear  of  her 
again." 

" There  is  one  sure  place"  answered  Peppo, 
casting  his  eyes  expressively  downward. 

Maxwell  was  too  cowardly  to  say  the  fatal 
words.  He  wanted  her  "put  away  safely." 
Peppo  more  bluntly  explained  the  phrase. 
Maxwell  still  ignored  the  explanation;  but  the 
brandy  having  told  upon  his  excited  state,  he 
began  to  excuse  himself,  to  cry  a  little  over  his 
cruel  disappointment,  to  crave  Peppo's  sympathy 
for  his  unfortunate  condition. 

Peppo  listened  with  scarcely  repressed  mock 
ery.  Maxwell's  explanation  about  McNeil  was 
perfectly  unintelligible  to  him;  as  to  Grizelda, 
he  had  formed,  through  Caterina,  his  own  opin 
ion  of  her.  He  bore  the  rambling  story  with 
a  sort  of  patience,  because  he  hoped  to  make 
the  better  terms  for  his  patience.  But  as  soon 
as  money  was  named,  Maxwell  arrested  himself, 
and  stared  with  stupid  incredulity  at  the  man. 

"  Five  hundred  pounds  !  It  is  ridiculous !  " 
he  answered.  "  Fifty  pounds  are  enough." 

"  Milord  has  his  choice.  I  can  go  to  others 
with  my  tale.  By  Bacchus !  to  save  may  be 
better  than  to  kill." 


AGAINST  HER  LIFE.  2 1/ 

The  words  in  a  measure  sobered  Maxwell. 
Already,  then,  he  was  in  the  power  of  the  villain 
he  had  called  to  himself.  He  said  sulkily,  — 

"Very  well;  I  will  give  you  five  hundred 
pounds  when  it  is  done." 

"  Six  hundred,  now,  Milord.  A  gentleman's 
word  is  not  to  be  doubted  for  nothing.  The 
money  is  also  to  be  paid  at  the  present;  and  I 
shall  be  at  your  order  —  when  you  call  me." 

Peppo  was  master  now.  He  had  stood  up 
and  dictated  his  terms  in  a  manner  which  Max 
well  found  it  impossible  to  resist  or  resent 
The  money  was  paid. 

"  I  will  have  a  receipt,  Peppo." 

"For  what  use?  Would  you  dare  to  show 
it?  When  you  want  me,  I  shall  be  waiting. 
Have  I  not  been  waiting  for  six  weeks?" 

He  put  the  money  in  a  dirty  bag,  and  went 
out  with  a  bow  which  made  Maxwell  burn  with 
anger.  It  was  the  greeting  of  a  familiar,  a  com 
rade;  and  it  made  him  understand,  as  nothing 
else  could  have  done,  how  low  he  had  fallen. 

But  he  did  not  blame  himself  at  all.  It  was 
Grizelda !  Her !  Curse  her !  Curse  her !  Oh ! 
how  he  cursed  her,  and  cursed  the  miserable 
letter  of  sympathy  she  had  sent  him  about  his 


2 1 8  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEII~ 

dogs,  —  "  the  beginning  of  all !  the  beginning  of 
all ! "  he  exclaimed  passionately.  But  he 
might  have  looked  further  back,  and  seen  him 
self  chuckling  with  wicked  delight  over  the  vice 
of  his  dogs,  and  privately  turning  them  loose 
at  night  to  work  his  malicious  pleasure  on  his 
unoffending  neighbours. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

GRIZELDA  IS   LOST. 

It  becomes  a  man,  if  he  have  received  aught  grateful  to  his 
mind,  to  bear  it  in  remembrance  ;  it  is  kindness  that  gives  birth 
to  kindness.  SOPHOCLES. 

For  the  sower  of  the  seed  is  assuredly  the  author  of  the 
whole  harvest  of  mischief. 

Thou,  who  dost  dwell  alone ; 
Thou,  who  dost  know  thine  own ; 
Thou,  to  whom  all  are  known, 
From  the  cradle  to  the  grave, 

Save !  oh, save  1 

ARNOLD. 

TT  was  near  Christmas  when  Maxwell  spoke 
•*•  again  to  Peppo.  Peppo  had  lounged  as  usual 
about  the  palace,  but  had  avoided  any  intelli 
gence  with  its  master.  Maxwell  perceived, 
therefore,  that  he  would  be  compelled  to  make 
the  first  decided  step.  The  interval  between 
the  infamous  bargain  and  its  completion  was  a 
last  season  of  grace  to  him ;  but  no  influence 
was  strong  enough  to  combat  the  feeling  of  hate 
daily  growing  to  murder  in  his  heart.  Even  the 


22O  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  AfcNE/L. 

death  of  Helen,  suggesting  a  double  portion  to 
Grizelda,  was  too  weak.  His  love  for  Julia 
Casselis  and  his  hate  of  his  wife  were  more 
powerful  motives  than  his  love  of  money.  Upon 
Christmas  eve  there  was  to  be  a  grand  fete  at  an 
English  gentleman's  residence,  four  miles  from 
Rome.  Lord  and  Lady  Maxwell  had  invita 
tions  to  it.  This  was  the  opportunity  Maxwell 
had  been  looking  for.  Among  the  crush  of 
vehicles  going  there,  one  more  or  less  would 
never  be  particularly  noticed 

He  called  Peppo  with  a  glance,  and  again 
took  him  to  his  room.  There  was  no  civility 
between  the  men.  They  already  understood 
each  other. 

"  You  have  heard  of  the  fite  at  the  Gigha 
villa?" 

"  I  was  thinking  about  it.  The  opportunity 
is  good." 

"  How  will  you  manage  the  affair?  " 

"  Will  milady  be  with  you?  " 

"Yes." 

"  It  is  known  that  she  wears  jewels.  Magni 
ficent.  I  will  stop  your  carriage.  I  will  put 
her  into  my  carriage.  It  will  be  supposed  she 
has  been  taken  for  her  jewels.  Eh?" 


GRIZELDA  IS  LOST.  221 

Maxwell  cast  a  black  look  at  his  confederate 
villain.  He  understood  that  Peppo  expected 
the  jewels  as  a  perquisite,  and  that  the  negotia 
tion  would  be  closed  if  he  opposed  the  plan. 
He  therefore  affected  to  acquiesce. 

"The  rest?" 

"  The  next  day  I  may  be  looked  for,  and  I 
shall  be  smoking  in  my  usual  place." 

"And  — she  ?" 

"  She  will  be  safe.  She  will  trouble  you  no 
more." 

"  The  jewels  !  —  they  are  family  jewels." 

"  They  will  be  safe  also." 

"  You  dare  not  sell  them  in  Rome." 

"  Per  Baccho  !  I  know  that.  I  shall  sell  them 
to  Milord  —  in  time." 

"  You  are  to  be  relied  on?  " 

"  As  the  hour.     Both  it  and  I  are  certain." 

"  That  is  all." 

"  At  present." 

There  was  in  Peppo's  expression  and  attitude 
a  veiled  insolence  and  defiance  which  might 
have  warned  Maxwell  if  the  Devil  had  not  both 
blinded  and  deafened  him.  Nay,  but  he  was 
conscious  of  it;  and  in  despite  of  the  conscious 
ness,  persisted  all  the  more  fiercely  in  his  deter- 


222  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF 

mination.  For  in  all  deliberate  sin  there  comes 
a  moment  when  the  man,  instead  of  possessing 
the  idea  of  crime,  is  possessed  by  it;  and  the 
Devil  surely  makes  mad  those  whom  he  intends 
to  destroy. 

There  were  four  days  between  the  purpose 
and  the  fulfilment  of  the  crime.  It  seems  in 
credible  that  in  them  Maxwell  never  once  con 
templated  the  gain  on  the  side  of  repentance; 
the  peace  of  mind,  the  safety;  the  certainty 
that  if  he  fled  from  temptation  with  his  wife,  she 
would  forgive  all  her  wrongs  and  love  him  freely 
again;  the  security  of  his  Highland  home;  the 
ties  there,  which  would  blind  and  reconcile  him 
to  his  self-denial ;  the  money  which  would  cer 
tainly  be  his  if  he  fulfilled  even  now  his  promise 
to  be  a  good  husband  to  Grizelda. 

None  of  these  things  could  obtain  from  him  a 
moment's  attention.  To  be  rid  of  Grizelda  that 
he  might  marry  Julia,  —  this  one  idea  pushed 
everything  else  from  his  mind.  He  lived  in 
the  false  exaltation  of  unbridled  passion,  in  a 
world  of  unholy  emotion,  beyond  the  sympa 
thy  and  comprehension  of  the  world,  which 
regarded  right  and  wrong  from  the  same  point 
of  justice. 


GRIZELDA  IS  LOST.  22$ 

The  night  preceding  the  fete,  Grizelda  was 
examining  the  dress  prepared  for  it.  Maxwell 
had,  with  rather  more  courtesy  than  usual,  ex 
plained  the  necessity  of  her  presence.  The 
reasons  given  were  political,  and  she  did  not  at 
all  understand  them;  but  she  did  note,  with  a 
sickly  flicker  of  hope  and  wonder,  his  kinder 
tone  and  manner.  She  plucked  up  heart,  and 
determined  to  look  her  best. 

Her  wedding-dress,  so  rich  and  lovely  and 
full  of  happy  memories,  lay  in  its  scented  case ; 
a  few  alterations,  a  few  flowers  would  give  it 
a  fresh  air.  She  had  occupied  herself  the  whole 
day  in  directing  the  required  changes.  She 
tried  it  on  with  a  flutter  of  pleasant  satisfaction ; 
it  was  still  very  becoming  to  her.  As  she  stood 
in  it,  a  servant  entered. 

"  Caterina's  husband,  Milady;  he  begs  from 
your  Goodness  one  five  minutes." 

"  Bring  him  here. 

"  Is  Caterina  sick,  Peppo,  that  you  come  so 
late?" 

"  True,  Milady."  Then  he  glanced  at  Gri- 
zelda's  maid  and  stood  speechless,  twirling  his 
gaudily  striped  cap. 

"What  do  you  wish,  Peppo?  " 


224  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  MCNEIL. 

"  If  Milady  would  give  me  one  five  minutes 
—  alone." 

"  Tessa,  you  may  go." 

Tessa,  gladly  enough,  ran  down  the  bare 
marble  stairway  to  the  cheerful,  noisy  kitchen. 
Peppo  watched  her  out  of  sight;  returning,  he 
locked  the  door,  and  flinging  himself  at  Gri- 
zelda's  feet,  he  showed  her  the  six  hundred 
pounds. 

"Milady!  Milady!  it  is  the  price  of  your 
life.  But  if  you  will  trust  Peppo,  he  will  save 
you  as  you  saved  my  Caterina." 

She  looked  at  him  in  horror,  white  to  the  lips, 
white  as  the  robe  she  wore.  But  this  was  no 
moment  for  a  faint  heart.  She  put  her  hand  on 
the  kneeling  man's  shoulder,  and  said  in  a 
whisper,  — 

"Who  gave  you  the  money?  Lord  Maxwell?  " 

Peppo  nodded.  There  were  tears  in  his  eyes, 
and  an  angry  flush  on  his  cheek. 

"  If  Milady  will  only  trust  Caterina  and 
Peppo." 

She  put  her  hand  in  his. 

"  I  will  trust  you.  Listen !  My  lord  gives 
you  six  hundred  pounds  to  murder  me ;  I  will 
give  you  a  thousand  to  save  me." 


GRIZELDA    IS  LOST.  22$ 

"For  your  goodness  I  will  take  you  to  Cat- 
erina  until  you  can  tell  your  own  good  friends." 

Then  he  explained  to  her  the  plot,  and  she 
agreed  to  make  no  opposition  to  it.  She  would 
permit  him  to  carry  her  away.  There  was  more 
hope  in  his  mercy  than  in  her  husband's.  She 
would  trust  entirely  to  him  and  Caterina.  And 
Peppo  kissed  her  satin-sandaled  feet  and  vowed 
to  lose  his  own  life  rather  than  touch  hers. 

The  whole  interview  had  lasted  less  than  ten 
minutes.  Peppo  went  to  the  kitchen  with  an 
order  for  soup  and  jelly  for  his  poor  Caterina; 
and  Grizelda  stood  almost  stupidly  where  he  left 
her.  It  was  hardly  possible  for  her  to  conceive 
of  a  hatred  so  deadly  and  cruel.  She  had  done 
nothing  to  deserve  it.  That  fact,  to  her,  ap 
peared  to  make  the  other  so  incredible.  She 
had  not  considered  that  it  is  the  injurer,  and  not 
the  injured,  that  hates ;  for  it  is  sin  that  hardens 
the  heart,  and  not  loss  or  sorrow. 

In  a  few  minutes  she  lifted  her  eyes,  and  with 
an  irresolute  movement  went  to  the  door  and 
fastened  it.  As  she  returned  she  saw  herself  in 
the  mirror.  She  looked  steadily  at  the  sorrow 
ful  woman  it  reflected  and  then  began,  with 
hasty,  trembling  fingers,  to  remove  the  white 
15 


226  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  MCNEIL. 

bravery  of  her  bridal  dress.  "  It  was  woven 
by  disobedience  and  made  by  selfishness;  a 
sorrowful  dress  it  has  been  to  me  !  Oh,  Helen  ! 
Helen !  Oh,  my  darling  sister !  "  she  sobbed. 
"  The  white  garments  are  for  you !  For  me 
there  are  none  too  black." 

She  was  in  a  great  confusion.  She  could 
form  no  plan.  Her  suffering  was  terrible ;  her 
terror  equal  to  it.  She  had  come  to  her  soul's 
Gethsemane,  and  found  no  angel  waiting  there 
to  strengthen  her.  Love  is  precious,  and  life 
may  be  given  for  love,  —  given  even  with  joy 
and  triumph ;  but  to  have  love  turn  to  hatred, 
and  to  surrender  life  to  force  and  cruelty,  that  is 
indeed  a  bitter  cup.  Grizelda  could  not  lift  it. 
"  Let  it  pass  from  me  !  Let  it  pass  from  me  !  " 
her  soul  cried  out;  for,  ah  !  love's  treacheries  are 
a  plough  that  breaks  the  human  heart  to  pieces, 
unless  in  the  midst  of  the  hard  experience  it 
can  reach  that  splendid  vehemence  of  aspiration 
and  submission,  which,  praying  and  enduring,  still 

says,  — 

Yea,  break  my  heart,  but  break  it  as  a  field 

Is  by  the  plough  upbroken  for  the  corn ; 
Oh,  break  it  as  the  buds,  by  green  leaf  sealed, 

Are  to  unloose  the  golden  blossom  torn ! 
Love  would  I  offer  unto  Love's  great  Master; 

Set  free  the  odour,  break  the  alabaster  1 


GRIZELDA  IS  LOST.  22J 

But  there  was  no  sensible  cry  of  any  kind  as 
yet  in  Grizelda's  heart;  all  her  energies  were 
bent  toward  the  concentration  of  her  strength 
for  the  ordeal  before  her.  She  would  not  take 
into  consideration  whether  Peppo  was  true  to 
her  or  not.  She  had  simply  no  hope  but  in 
him,  and  she  could  not  throw  that  solitary  hope 
away.  For  a  few  moments  she  thought  of 
appealing  to  the  British  consul;  but  Lord 
Maxwell  was  on  familiar  terms  with  him.  He 
would  accuse  her  of  sickness,  perhaps  of  insanity, 
and  her  secluded  life  placed  her  at  the  mercy 
of  any  charge  hatred  and  cunning  chose  to 
make.  Besides,  if  she  had  thought  of  this  possi 
bility,  had  not  Maxwell  probably  done  the  same, 
and  prepared  for  it?  If  Peppo  had  been  once 
bought,  he  could  be  bought  again.  The  ser 
vants  were  all  new  ones;  none  of  them  had  a 
special  interest  in  her.  Only  Peppo  and  Cate- 
rina  were  bound  to  her  by  any  kindly  tie.  She 
felt  that  she  must  trust  entirely  to  them. 

As  the  hour  for  leaving  her  home  drew  near, 
she  dressed  herself  again  in  the  fatal  wedding- 
dress.  Around  her  throat  and  arms  were  the 
sapphires  and  diamonds  which  had  been  her 
father's  bridal  gift.  Maxwell  cast  an  envious 


228  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL, 

look  at  them.  Reset,  how  suitable  they  would 
be  to  Julia's  beauty !  He  touched  them  lightly, 
and  said,  — 

"  Grizelda,  I  would  leave  those  gems  at  home. 
The  roads  outside  the  city  are  haunted  by  des 
perate  robbers,  especially  on  such  an  occasion 
as  this.  You  look  very  lovely  without  them." 

She  did  look  lovely,  the  words  were  true 
enough,  for  repressed  excitement  had  given  a 
luminous  colouring  to  her  skin  and  an  intense 
brilliancy  to  her  eyes;  but  the  compliment  at 
that  moment  was  such  a  mockery  that  she  could 
not  avoid  a  look  of  inquiry  which  was  very  dis 
concerting.  If  shame  or  remorse  had  been 
possible  to  him,  he  would  have  felt  its  sting  at 
that  moment. 

But  she  made  no  objection  to  his  proposal. 

"  I  will  remove  them.  Will  they  be  safe  in 
my  jewel-case  if  both  of  us  are  absent?" 

"  Give  the  key  of  your  case  to  me.  They  will 
be  safe  enough  until  to-morrow." 

She  went  upstairs,  secreted  the  precious 
stones  about  her  person,  and  brought  the  key 
of  her  jewel-case  to  Maxwell ;  with  some  osten 
tation  he  put  it  in  his  pocket-book.  Then  the 
carriage  was  announced,  and  they  left  the  room 


GRIZELDA  IS  LOST. 

together.  Maxwell  had  that  day  dismissed  his 
coachman  and  replaced  him  with  a  man  sent  by 
Peppo.  He  saw  the  fellow  holding  the  reins,  and 
was  satisfied  the  scheme  would  be  carried  out 

He  made  one  or  two  attempts  to  speak,  but 
Grizelda  could  not  continue  them.  Her  whole 
soul  was  on  the  watch.  Maxwell  thought  she 
was  sulky  about  the  jewels,  and  he  rather 
prided  himself  upon  his  clever  scheme  for  their 
preservation.  And  when  Peppo  came  for  their 
price,  he  would  have  him  at  an  advantage; 
he  would  demand  the  jewels  ere  he  paid  the 
money.  The  more  he  thought  of  his  little  plan 
the  better  pleased  he  was  with  it. 

As  they  approached  the  skirting  of  the  wood 
where  the  attack  was  to  be  made,  he  became 
silent.  He  had  purposely  left  the  city  half  an 
hour  later  than  the  fete  demanded;  he  was 
glad  to  see  that  the  road  was  comparatively 
deserted.  One  belated  carriage  dashed  past 
them  at  a  rapid  rate,  but  midway  along  the 
dangerous  strip  they  were  alone. 

Two  figures  came  suddenly  from  the  wood. 
In  a  disguised  voice  they  ordered  the  coach 
man  to  descend  and  hold  the  horses;  and  the 
man,  in  a  paroxysm  of  pretended  fear,  obeyed. 


23O  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL. 

Peppo  and  his  confederate  tied  Lord  Maxwell's 
hands  and  feet,  performing  the  operation  with 
such  unnecessary  cruelty  that  their  victim  was 
forced  to  relieve  his  agony  with  oaths  and  cries 
of  sincere  distress. 

Grizelda  was  speechless.  She  had  seen 
Peppo  glance  at  her  throat  and  arms,  but  she 
did  not  know  that  in  the  tightening  of  Max 
well's  cords  he  was  taking  an  advance  payment 
of  the  revenge  he  intended.  It  had  been  Max 
well's  own  suggestion  that  he  should  be  bound. 
It  was  a  sufficient  reason  for  his  not  giving  the 
alarm  until  circumstances  forced  it  from  him, 
but  he  had  no  idea  of  the  suffering  that  he  was 
to  endure  in  consequence  of  it. 

The  operation  did  not  take  three  minutes; 
then  Grizelda  was  carried  into  the  wood,  the 
horses  were  securely  tied,  Peppo  and  the 
coachman  disappeared,  and  Maxwell  was  left 
bound  on  the  roadside.  Though  in  great 
agony,  he  noticed  Grizelda's  ominous  silence, 
and  supposed  that  she  had  fainted.  Ten  min 
utes  later  he  had  himself  lost  consciousness, 
though  the  cutting  cold  soon  restored  him  to 
a  conception  of  the  possibilities  of  human  na 
ture  in  physical  suffering. 


GRIZELDA  IS  LOST. 

Some  of  the  poor  hangers-on  at  such  fes 
tivals, —  stray  musicians,  servants  out  of  place, 
etc.,  —  passed  the  standing  vehicle  and  the  tied 
man;  but  they  hurried  away  as  if  they  had 
seen  Death.  Not  one  of  them  cared  to  risk  the 
office  of  giving  information.  Suspicions,  im 
prisonment,  worse  even  might  come  from  it. 

"  The  poor  are  always  guilty,"  said  one. 
"  Let  the  man  wait  for  his  equals.  It  is  not 
our  fault  if  we  dare  not  be  charitable." 

So  Maxwell  actually  lay  in  his  miserable 
bonds  until  the  first  guests  began  to  return  to 
the  city.  Then  his  condition  raised  a  tumult 
and  an  outcry  of  inquiries  and  indignation.  He 
was  taken  back  to  Rome  in  Prince  Camparas's 
carriage,  and  all  the  paraphernalia  of  the  police 
set  as  quickly  as  possible  on  the  track  of  the 
robbers. 

But  some  hours  had  been  lost,  and  Maxwell 
did  not  help  to  put  investigation  on  the  right 
road;  indeed,  he  was  becoming  every  moment 
more  terrified  at  the  result  of  his  wicked  deed. 
This  was  natural,  and  supernatural  also.  The 
Devil  does  not  mind  how  much  care,  how  much 
terror  and  remorse,  haunt  the  sinner  when  the 
deed  is  done.  The  betrayal  accomplished,  he 


232  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL. 

was  quite  willing  that  Judas  should  hang  him 
self;  he  always  is  willing  that  suicide  should 
follow  murder. 

But  Maxwell  had  ample  time  for  reflection. 
His  wrists  and  ankles  were  frightfully  cut  and 
swollen,  and  the  painful  inflammation  superven 
ing  was  accompanied  by  a  severe  attack  of 
acute  rheumatic  fever.  His  sufferings  were  ter 
rible,  but  amid  them  all  he  had  a  constant  fear 
still  more  terrible,  —  if  he  should  become  de 
lirious  and  confess  the  truth !  There  was  no 
relief  for  this  fear  but  in  the  demand  for 
Peppo's  services  as  his  attendant.  The  physi 
cian  knew  how  Grizelda  had  nursed  Peppo's 
wife  back  to  life ;  he  thought  it  a  very  natural 
thing  that  Peppo  should  repay  the  kindness. 

Peppo  was  not  a  kind  nurse.  Peppo  made 
him  suffer  a  great  deal  that  was  beyond  even 
the  plenitude  of  suffering  natural  to  rheumatic 
fever.  He  compelled  him  to  confess  the  jewel 
trick,  and  he  gave  him  in  return  such  a  lesson 
on  the  tenet  of  honour  among  thieves,  as  made 
Maxwell  remember  it  with  fear  and  trembling. 
Yes,  it  must  be  confessed  that  Peppo  was  neither 
kind-hearted  nor  truthful.  He  relieved  the  te 
dium  of  his  attentions  to  his  noble  patient  with 


GR1ZELDA  IS  LOST.  233 

such  details  of  Grizelda's  death  as  he  thought 
likely  to  make  him  miserable.  While  consoling 
himself  with  the  assurance  that  Grizelda  had 
forgiven  him,  nay,  even  thanked  him  for  ridding 
her  of  a  life  made  horrible  by  the  tie  which 
bound  her  to  her  husband,  he  gave  Maxwell  no 
comfort  of  any  kind. 

In  certain  moods  he  described  Grizelda's  an 
gelic  resignation,  her  prayers  and  blessings, 
until  he  wept  at  his  own  eloquence.  In  other 
moods  he  preferred  that  Maxwell  should  think 
she  had  suffered  every  outrage  and  brutality. 
Both  stories  were  told  with  an  equal  air  of 
truthfulness.  Maxwell  writhed  between  the  two 
versions  in  an  agony  of  suspense  and  uncer 
tainty,  made  terrific  by  the  phantasmal  horrors 
of  semi-delirium. 

He  was  in  this  condition  when  Colin  reached 
Rome.  The  news  of  Grizelda's  fate,  dreadful  as 
it  was,  was  scarcely  a  surprise  to  him.  The 
vague  anxiety  which  had  suddenly  taken  pos 
session  of  him  at  Edderloch  had  grown  with 
every  mile  he  had  travelled,  until  it  had  become 
a  fever  of  apprehension.  When  he  heard  the 
worst,  he  was  quite  prepared  for  it.  Had  he 
arrived  two  weeks  earlier,  he  would  certainly 


234  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  Me  NEIL. 

have  discovered  the  whole  plot  and  reclaimed 
his  cousin.  But  his  untiring  energy,  his  lavish 
use  of  money,  his  sleuth-hound  hatred  of  Max 
well,  were  baffled  by  incompetence,  supersti 
tions,  delays,  false  clews,  lapse  of  time,  a  score 
of  other  obstacles  which  it  was  impossible  for 
him  to  obviate. 

He  would  not  see  Maxwell.  He  said  boldly 
that  it  was  not  his  interest  to  find  his  wife.  In 
spite  of  the  general  sympathy  for  his  loss  and 
suffering,  Colin  had  an  unquenchable  fire  of 
hatred  and  suspicion  in  his  heart  against  him. 
No  one  in  Rome  would  listen  to  the  faintest 
whisper,  not  even  the  police ;  but  Colin  was  not 
influenced  by  this  blindness  of  public  judg 
ment.  He  made  every  arrangement  for  the 
continuance  of  the  search  that  love  and  hatred 
could  devise. 

Then  he  hastened  back  to  Edderloch;  for 
McNeil  had  been  advised  of  his  daughter's 
loss  and  probable  death,  and  Colin  thought 
with  pity  and  dismay  on  the  old  man's  grief; 
for  the  fondest  love,  if  put  between  the  living 
and  the  dead,  turns,  however  reluctantly,  to  the 
living.  There  are  hopes  in  the  living,  but  the 
dead  leave  us  none. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

MAXWELL  MARRIES   AGAIN. 

They  to  the  verge  have  followed  what  they  love, 
And  on  the  insuperable  threshold  stand. 

Why  perplex  the  soul  with  visions  of  to-morrow, 
When  to-day  its  councils  and  its  cares  has  brought  ? 

Walk  boldly  and  wisely  in  the  light  thou  hast ; 
There  is  a  Hand  above  will  help  thee  on. 

AFTER  Helen's  death,  Colin  had  found  a 
small  comfort  in  visiting  her  grave  every 
day  and  leaving  there  a  sprig  of  box  or  a  cluster 
of  rowan  berries,  or  even  a  trailing  spray  of 
some  of  the  pale,  cold  flowers  of  the  sea.  How 
ever  simple  the  offering,  it  was  a  token  of  his 
remembrance.  Those  who  have  made  such 
offerings  will  understand.  The  laird  did  not 
speak  of  these  visits,  but  he  was  aware  of  them ; 
and  when  Colin  went  to  Rome,  he  frequently 
carried  the  token  in  his  place.  And  as  the 
mistery  that  surrounds  posthumous  humanity 
is  so  great,  surely  it  is  the  part  of  love  to  live 


236  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  MCNEIL. 

with  regard  to  the  dead  as  if  they  were  obser 
vant  of  our  memory  of  them. 

One  afternoon,  about  two  weeks  after  Colin 
had  left  him,  the  laird  went  to  the  kirk-yard  on 
this  errand.  He  had  been  singularly  miserable 
and  restless  all  day;  perhaps  he  hoped  in  this 
solitary  communion  to  find  comfort.  But  if 
comfort  come  not  from  within,  Nature  is  usually 
hostile  to  grief;  and  this  afternoon  the  solemn 
mountains,  the  misty  moorlands,  the  melancholy 
waves,  had  no  token  of  hope  in  them.  In  the 
mournful  light  which  brooded  above  the  fallen 
sun,  his  tall,  massive  figure,  standing  solitary  on 
the  cliff,  was  the  very  image  of  desolation. 
There  was  a  cry  in  the  sea,  also,  that  the  cry  in 
his  heart  answered.  He  knew  that  there  was 
trouble  in  the  air. 

Fortunately,  Doctor  Brodick  was  sitting  with 
him  when  the  news  of  Grizelda's  death  came. 
He  took  it  with  a  terrible  calmness.  His  face 
seemed  to  turn  to  granite.  He  was  angry  at 
the  tears  in  Brodick's  eyes. 

"  I  will  have  no  tears,"  he  cried ;  "  this  is  no 
time  for  them.  I  will  have  revenge !  " 

The  terrible  vacillation  of  his  suspicions  would 
give  him  no  rest.  At  one  moment  he  was 


MAXWELL   MARRIES  AGAIN.  237 

certain  his  child  had  been  murdered;  again, 
he  was  certain  she  was  alive  and  calling  to  him 
for  help.  He  thought  of  lonely  convents,  of 
the  horrors  of  insane  asylums  and  forgotten 
prison  rooms,  and  felt  as  if  impossibilities  would 
be  easy  for  her  relief. 

But,  oh,  how  quickly  love  is  made  to  feel 
the  limitations  of  its  physical  conditions ! 

"  Go  to  Rome !  "  said  Brodick,  pitifully. 
"  Man,  what  will  you  do  in  Rome?  Get  your 
self  into  trouble  likewise.  Colin  will  have  left 
ere  you  get  there.  No  one  but  priests  and 
papists  and  singing  men  and  women  to  ask  a 
question  of;  and  they  won't  understand  you, 
nor  you  them.  Think  of  this,  McNeil;  if  Gri- 
zelda  is  above  the  ground,  she  has  wit  enough 
and  strength  enough  to  find  her  way  back, 
either  to  her  home  or  to  her  husband.  If 
it  is  still  to  her  husband,  what  is  there  for 
you  to  do  or  to  say?  If  she  comes  to  you, 
then  the  way  for  interference  will  be  made 
plain." 

"  She  has  money,  thank  God !  When  I  saw 
her  last,  I  gave  her  money, — two  thousand 
pounds.  Money  can  work  wonders." 

"  If  she  happened  to  have  it  with  her.     But 


238  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL. 

money  in  a  desk  or  drawer  —  I  am  feared  there 
would  be  little  help  in  that." 

And  McNeil  spoke  not.  He  was  thinking  of, 
he  was  really  seeing,  a  slip  of  paper  in  the  secret 
drawer  of  his  own  desk.  It  represented  thou 
sands  of  pounds,  and  it  was  doing  no  more  good 
than  if  it  were  blank.  But  at  this  hour  the 
thought  angered  him.  The  poor !  What  in 
his  great  sorrow  were  they  to  him?  Could  they 
give  him  help,  or  bring  him  word  of  his  child  ? 
No.  The  trouble  in  his  own  house  was  suffi 
cient  for  him  to  bear. 

"  My  two  dear  girls,"  he  cried  out,  "  both 
taken  from  me  in  three  months !  Oh,  Brodick, 
it  is  more  than  any  mortal  can  bear." 

"  Laird,  gird  up  yourself  like  a  man.  There 
are  fathers  outside  your  gates  who  have  lost 
three  children  in  three  days.  There  is  one 
father,  Alexander  Muir,  who  lost  his  whole 
household  in  a  week,  —  wife  and  five  bairns. 
He  is  handling  his  nets  again.  The  others  are 
about  their  daily  work.  The  Lord  gave,  and 
the  Lord  took  away." 

"  Don't  finish,  Brodick !  When  God  gives  a 
blessing,  is  it  god-like  to  be  taking  it  back 
again?  If  I  was  to  take  back  the  land  I  gave 


MAXWELL  MARRIES  AGAIN.  239 

to  the  vilhge,  what  would  you  be  saying  of 
me?" 

"You  cannot  foresee  the  future,  Laird;  God 
can.  Man,  whiles,  turns  gifts  into  losses,  and 
blessings  into  curses.  The  gift  may  be  best  for 
us  this  year,  on  earth ;  next  year  it  may  be 
better  for  us  to  have  it  in  heaven.  Shall  not 
the  Judge  of  the  whole  earth  do  right?" 

But  McNeil  was  not  to  be  reasoned  with.  He 
agreed,  indeed,  to  wait  for  Colin's  return,  but 
the  weeks  intervening  were  weeks  of  great 
anxiety.  As  they  passed,  one  by  one,  and  no 
word  came  from  Grizelda,  Brodick  was  certain 
of  her  death.  If  alive,  she  would  have  contrived 
to  send  her  father  word ;  if  a  ransom  had 
been  asked,  she  would  have  appealed  to  him. 
And  whenever  this  conclusion  was  reached,  the 
men  looked  at  each  other  with  a  dreadful  in 
telligence:  "If  Grizelda  were  dead,  Maxwell 
had  compassed  her  death." 

Colin  did  not  return  until  March  was  nearly 
over.  But  fortunately  for  McNeil,  he  had  been 
compelled  ere  that  time  to  resume  work  on  the 
hotel.  The  men  at  their  dismissal  in  the  fever 
time  had  been  told  to  be  ready  on  the  first  of 
March,  and  McNeil  found  them  waiting  his 


240  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL. 

orders.  It  was  a  relief  to  his  perpetual  thoughts 
of  wrong  and  plans  of  vengeance.  For  such 
corroding  sorrow,  work  is  the  oldest  evangel 
preached. 

Carrying  care  for  others,  he  forgot  himself. 
His  wearied  body  compelled  him  to  sleep,  and 
sleep  insensibly  brought  him  something  like 
patience.  He  gives  His  beloved  in  their  sleep, 
gives  them  consolation  by  angelic  influences 
and  hopeful  dreams ;  sends  some  messenger  to 
put  right  what  they  have  put  wrong;  to  influ 
ence  the  hearts  of  those  who  have  them  in  their 
power  in  any  way.  He  reproves  their  enemies ; 
He  strengthens  their  friends.  He  gives  them 
in  their  sleep  the  blessing  they  need ;  for  per 
haps  when  we  are  waking,  we  hinder  the  gift 
by  the  fearful  complaining  influences  we  call 
around  us. 

And  McNeil,  though  chafing  at  Colin's  fail 
ure,  was  compelled,  at  least  for  a  while,  to  defer 
his  own  efforts.  The  detectives  and  other 
parties  employed  must  have  a  reasonable  time 
given  them  for  investigations,  as  the  future 
efforts  of  Grizelda's  friends  must  depend  upon 
what  they  accomplished  or  failed  to  accomplish. 

For  some  weeks  their  reports  were  hopeful. 


MAXWELL  MARRIES  AGAIN'.  24! 

They  were  finding  new  clews ;  they  were  on  the 
line  of  success ;  they  had  seen  some  one  who 
had  seen  Grizelda  in  some  distant  village.  Thus 
beguiled,  McNeil  and  Colin  saw  the  summer 
slip  away.  The  hotel  had  been  opened  in  June, 
and  realized  even  more  than  the  laird's  hopes. 
Never  had  there  been  such  prosperity  in  Edder- 
loch.  The  fishermen  had  a  market  at  their 
hands ;  their  toil  was  well  repaid ;  their  wives 
made  knitted  goods  and  sold  them ;  their  chil 
dren  were  gillies  to  the  gentlemen  on  the  hills, 
or  maids  to  the  ladies  in  the  hotel.  Ready 
money  was  plentiful  with  those  who  had  thought 
a  shilling  a  large  sum ;  and  contentment  and  an 
air  of  happy  employment  were  on  every  face. 

The  laird  felt  his  own  anxious,  fearful  grief 
all  the  more  bitterly.  This  was  the  very  state 
of  things  he  had  dreamed  about  and  planned 
and  worked  for;  and  though  it  had  come,  he 
was  not  able  to  enjoy  the  fruition  of  his  hopes. 
His  private  griefs  were  in  every  success  a  dark 
and  drifting  shadow. 

But  when  the  hotel  closed  for  the  summer, 

he   was   determined   to   go   himself   to    Rome. 

Then  even  Doctor  Brodick  thought  it  would  be 

best    to    sanction    this    personal    gratification. 

16 


242  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  MCNEIL. 

The  journey  might  divert  his  mind  into  new 
channels,  and  end  a  suspense  which  had  lost  all 
elements  of  hope,  and  become  worse  than  the 
certainty  of  death. 

But  the  journey  was  as  fruitless  of  comfort 
as  Colin's  worst  fears.  They  found  Grizelda's 
disappearance  nearly  forgotten.  Half  a  dozen 
later  tragedies  had  pushed  it  outside  the  sym 
pathies  and  memories  of  men.  Besides,  sym 
pathy  is  for  the  living,  forgetfulness  for  the 
dead.  Whatever  interest  there  was  in  an  affair 
that  was  nearly  a  year  old  went  naturally  to 
Lord  Maxwell.  Such  a  polite,  generous,  hand 
some  young  lord  !  And  how  he  had  suffered  ! 
He  had  been  carried  to  the  seaside  for  the 
summer,  and  had  just  returned  to  Rome.  A 
few  people  had  seen  him,  so  white,  so  weak, 
so  broken  down  with  suffering !  And  as  for 
the  lady,  was  she  not  very  peculiar?  Mrs. 
Pelham  had  a  maid  who  had  served  Lady  Max 
well  for  a  month,  and  she  was  sure  Lady  Max 
well  hated  her  husband.  The  next  suggestion 
followed  easily,  —  perhaps,  indeed,  she  had  an 
other  lover!  This  suspicion  was  natural  and 
not  unreasonable  to  the  Italian  mind.  It  seemed 
the  most  likely  solution  of  the  mystery.  The 


MAXWELL   MARRIES  AGAIN.  243 

pretended  robber  was  a  lover;  she  had  been 
willingly  abducted,  and  if  found,  would  probably 
refuse  to  return. 

This  view  of  the  case  was  finally  taken  by 
the  police.  If  there  had  been  a  robbery,  it 
was  impossible  for  the  robbers  to  have  escaped 
their  extraordinary  vigilance.  If  there  had 
been  a  robbery,  it  was  for  the  jewels,  and  these 
had  never  been  offered  for  sale.  Jewellers  in 
all  the  great  European  cities  had  been  advised 
of  their  loss,  the  setting  described,  and  the  size 
and  colour  of  the  stones. 

The  lady  had  her  jewels  yet,  there  was  no 
doubt.  She  was  in  hiding  somewhere  with  her 
lover. 

And  then  Maxwell  admitted  with  affected  re 
luctance  that  he  had  been  jealous  of  her  frequent 
absences  from  her  home.  He  said  he  had  fol 
lowed  her  to  a  certain  church,  and  to  the  studio 
of  Signer  Donata. 

Italian  husbands  and  wives  shook  their  heads 
at  these  admissions.  To  look  at  an  altar  pic 
ture  !  To  take  lessons  from  an  aged  painter ! 
Was  it  conceivable  that  the  wife  of  an  English 
noble,  a  young  and  pretty  woman,  could  have 
only  such  motives  for  conduct  so  unusual? 


244  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  MCNEIL. 

All  these  suspicions  came  bluntly  enough 
from  the  emissaries  employed  by  Colin.  They 
saw  their  occupation  was  at  an  end.  They  felt 
a  kind  of  anger  at  the  lady  who  had  not  an 
swered  their  trifling  efforts.  To  save  their  own 
reputation  at  the  cost  of  hers  was  a  satisfaction. 
The  McNeil  heard  them  with  doubt  and  anger. 
He  was  resolved  to  see  Maxwell,  and  he  called 
upon  him  without  warning  or  ceremony. 

But  Maxwell  had  heard  of  his  presence  in 
Rome.  He  was  prepared  for  the  visit.  He  met 
his  father-in-law  with  a  burst  of  tears  and  a 
clever  imitation  of  extreme  physical  weakness 
and  suffering.  He  deplored,  he  protested,  he 
was  on  the  point  of  fainting  twice ;  he  acknowl 
edged  that  he  had  sometimes  pained  Grizelda, 
and  entreated  Grizelda's  father  to  forgive  him 
for  her. 

He  did  not  convince  McNeil,  but  he  disarmed 
him  for  the  time,  and  even  compelled,  at  part 
ing,  a  kind  of  conventional  courtesy;  and  thus 
from  the  injured  father  there  was  unwittingly 
forced  the  only  thing  necessary  for  Maxwell's 
triumphant  social  acquittal.  He  could  now  talk 
of  the  McNeil's  kind  visit  to  him,  of  McNeil's 
sympathy  for  his  sufferings.  He  could  sigh,  and 


MAXWELL  MARRIES  AGAIN.  24$ 

intimate  so  much  by  his  sighs  and  by  his  very 
silences,  that  every  one  was  sure  that  he  had 
been  a  grievously  wronged  husband,  and  that 
Grizelda's  father  knew  it. 

But  never  for  one  moment  did  so  shameful 
a  suspicion  find  a  home  in  the  laird's  heart. 
And  Colin  did  not  resent  it  with  more  impetu 
ous  anger  than  did  Doctor  Brodick.  Wilful 
and  selfish  Grizelda  might  have  been,  but  wicked 
and  unwomanly  —  never !  No  one  of  the  three 
men  would  tolerate  the  thought. 

"  A  year  of  change,  and  five  years  of  rest  to 
follow."  The  old  proverb  found  in  McNeil 
Castle  a  kind  of  verification.  As  time  went  on, 
Grizelda's  name  was  less  and  less  spoken;  but 
none  that  had  loved  forgot  her.  There  were 
still  days  in  which  her  father  could  not  put 
down  the  conviction  that  she  was  alive,  and  that 
he  should  not  die  until  he  had  seen  her  face 
again ;  for  the  soul  believes  as  the  body  breathes. 
It  has  no  need  to  discuss  its  faith,  or  to  exam 
ine  its  proofs;  it  has  the  evidence  of  things 
not  seen. 

He  and  Colin  lived  a  very  calm  and  methodi 
cal  life.  The  success  of  the  hotel  had,  as  fore 
seen,  necessitated  more  building.  A  pretty 


246  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  MCNEIL. 

town  was  growing  around  it.  The  ancient  fishing 
village  was  all  astir  with  the  changes  constantly 
going  on ;  the  sheep  farms  were  enlarged,  the 
game  strictly  preserved.  The  two  men  were 
growing  rich  in  money,  and  still  richer  in 
houses  and  lands. 

In  the  spring  there  were  always  alterations 
and  additions  to  be  made,  planting  to  be  done, 
fishing-boats  and  nets  to  be  looked  over,  the 
hotel  to  be  put  in  order,  etc.  In  summer  and 
autumn  the  old  silence  of  the  hills  and  moors 
was  broken  by  troops  of  visitors,  by  wandering 
artists,  by  sportsmen  and  pilgrims  of  all  kinds. 
In  winter  the  laird  and  Colin  went  to  Edinburgh, 
and  enjoyed  a  mild  kind  of  social  dissipation 
among  their  friends  and  relatives,  and  in  pursuit 
of  their  particular  hobbies. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  fifth  year  they  began 
to  talk  together  in  a  calm,  fitful  way  of  Colin's 
marriage.  An  heir  to  the  great  property  they 
were  amassing  was  an  important  thing.  And 
the  laird  had  noticed  with  satisfaction  that  Colin 
had  been  more  attentive  than  was  his  custom 
to  pretty  Rosa  McNeil,  the  daughter  of  one  of 
his  own  cousins.  He  permitted  him  to  under 
stand  his  satisfaction,  but  nothing  definite  was 


MAXWELL  MARRIES  AGAIN:  247 

said  on  the  subject.  Indeed,  it  was  not  one 
which  interested  Colin  much.  He  was  a  loyal 
lad,  and  the  loss  of  Helen  and  Grizelda  had 
given  his  heart  a  shock.  The  two  fair  girls  who 
had  been  so  sweet  a  part  of  his  life  and  love  — 
how  could  he  forget  them?  As  a  matter  of 
duty,  he  felt  that  he  must  marry  soon ;  but  the 
bridegrooms  of  duty  are  not  impatient  ones. 

Early  in  the  spring  of  the  sixth  year  the  two 
men  returned  from  Edinburgh  to  Edderloch, 
after  a  very  pleasant  winter.  They  were  talking 
over  the  usual  routine  of  spring  business  as  they 
were  approaching  their  journey's  end.  The 
gray  turrets  of  the  castle  were  in  view;  a  smile 
of  content  was  on  each  face.  Suddenly  a  car 
riage,  drawn  by  two  high-mettled  horses,  passed 
them  with  an  impetuosity  that  compelled  Mc 
Neil's  driver  to  make  way  for  it.  In  the  haste 
the  laird's  older-fashioned  and  more  cumbrous 
vehicle  was  nearly  over-thrown. 

But,  quick  as  the  passing  was,  both  McNeil 
and  Colin  saw  the  handsome,  insolent  face  of 
Maxwell  bending  slightly  forward  as  if  the 
contretemps  highly  amused  him.  McNeil  was 
furious.  In  the  first  outburst  of  his  rage  he 
dismissed  the  trembling  old  coachman,  who 


248  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

could  offer  no  apology  but  the  very  pertinent 
one,  that  he  was  feared  of  an  accident  and  of 
some  danger  to  the  McNeil. 

"  So  you  made  the  McNeil  give  the  mid 
dle  of  the  road  to  the  like  of  him !  My  own 
road,  too !  David,  I  '11  never  forgive  you  the 
insult!" 

But  when  Brodick  came  to  the  castle,  they 
heard  news  which  put  all  other  things  out  of 
their  minds.  Maxwell  was  married  again.  He 
had  just  brought  his  wife  and  child  to  Blair- 
go  wrie,  He  must,  then,  have  some  certain 
knowledge  of  Grizelda's  death,  and  how  cruel 
it  was  in  him  to  have  withheld  it! 

The  laird  was  for  Blairgowrie  at  once.  Colin 
was  on  his  feet  to  accompany  him.  But  Brod 
ick  opposed  the  hasty  movement. 

"  Hurry  is  the  Devil's  servant,"  he  cried ; 
"sit  down,  both  of  you.  Ere  you  win  Blair 
gowrie  to-night,  it  will  be  ten  o'clock.  I  'm  not 
going  with  two  passionate  men  this  night,  and 
you  are  na  to  go  without  me ;  you  '11  be  better 
to  have  a  witness  to  all  that  is  said  and  done. 
And  you  '11  get  your  thoughts  together,  and 
your  tempers  together,  and  be  more  able  to 
speak  like  men  with  gentle  blood  in  them,  when 


MAXWELL  MARRIES  AGAIN.  249 

you  have  put  twelve  hours  between  Maxwell 
and  your  first  passion." 

In  the  morning  it  was  decided  that  only  the 
laird  and  his  friend  Brodick  should  call  on  Max 
well.  Colin  had  not  the  right  of  question ;  he 
was  very  hot-tempered ;  he  was  particularly 
hateful  to  Maxwell.  If  he  voluntarily  entered 
his  house,  he  put  it  in  Maxwell's  power  to  offer 
him  insults  that  would  be  intolerable,  and  per 
haps  demand  such  an  instant  satisfaction  as 
might  put  Colin  in  the  power  of  the  law. 

Maxwell's  treatment  of  McNeil  was  very  dif 
ferent  from  what  it  had  been  in  Rome.  He 
kept  the  laird  and  the  minister  waiting  until  he 
had  finished  his  breakfast,  and  he  took  care  to 
prolong  the  meal  to  his  utmost  desire.  As  the 
two  angry  men  sat  waiting,  they  could  hear  his 
shrill,  mocking  voice  and  laughter  keeping  a  kind 
of  accompaniment  to  a  woman's  variable  tones. 

When  he  came  to  them  finally,  he  was  lei 
surely  picking  his  teeth.  His  air  was  that  of 
insolent  happiness  and  satisfied  physical  wants, 
demanding  of  some  intruder,  "  What  the  Devil 
do  you  come  here  for?"  McNeil  and  Brodick 
looked  almost  god-like  as  they  stood  up  with 
sternly  solemn  faces  to  meet  him. 


250  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

"  I  want  to  hear  about  my  child,  Lord  Max 
well.  I  presume  you  have  some  certain  knowl 
edge  of  her  death." 

"  I  must  say,  sir,  that  I  think  it  very  imperti 
nent  in  you  to  bring  such  an  offensive  memory 
into  my  happy  home.  Of  course  she  is  dead. 
If  you  had  paid  as  much  attention  to  her  fate 
as  to  your  hotel,  you  would  not  have  had  any 
occasion  to  trouble  me." 

"  I  care  nothing  for  your  insults,  Lord.  Tell 
me  plainly  of  my  daughter." 

"  Anatalja,  a  famous  robber,  suffered  for  his 
crimes  two  years  ago.  In  his  last  confession, 
among  a  hundred  other  atrocities,  he  described 
the  carrying  off  of  Lady  Maxwell.  The  jewels 
you  gave  her  were  the  temptation.  A  thrust 
or  two  from  a  stiletto  made  them  Anatalja's 
property.  He  was  so  good  as  to  inform  the 
police  where  the  remains  might  be  found.  If 
you  care  about  the  information,  your  nephew 
is  well  acquainted  with  the  Roman  detectives; 
they  will  doubtless  oblige  him  with  the  neces 
sary  instructions." 

"  Wretch  !  Double-dyed  wretch  !  To  leave 
your  wife  without  Christian  burial !  Give  me 
now  the  directions !  " 


MAXWELL  MARRIES  AGAIN:  2$  I 

"  I  really  did  not  trouble  myself  with  them." 

"  McNeil!  McNeil!  "  and  Brodick  strode  be 
tween  the  outraged  father  and  his  tormentor. 
Then  turning  to  Maxwell  he  cried  out,  "  Lord 
Maxwell,  you  are  a  hound,  and  you  shall  die 
like  a  hound,  and  none  that  love  you  shall  be 
near  you  !  —  Come,  Laird  !  Come,  my  ain  dear 
friend !  You  have  suffered  a  great  wrong,  but 
this  very  wrong  is  the  beginning  of  the  righting. 
I  am  speaking  beyond  myself  now,  McNeil,  but 
I  know  I  am  speaking  the  truth !  —  and  God  is 
aboon  the  De'il."  And  so,  with  short,  emphatic 
sentences,  he  strengthened  the  distracted  father 
until  he  had  led  him  beyond  the  sight  of 
Blairgowrie. 

Then  he  encouraged  him  to  weep  and  lament. 
Then  he  joined  in  his  anger  and  indorsed  his 
suspicions,  and  thus  together  they  returned  to 
the  castle.  Nothing  of  all  that  had  been  said 
was  kept  from  Colin,  and  within  an  hour  the 
young  man  was  on  the  road  to  Rome.  At 
least  a  burial  among  her  kindred  could  be  given 
to  the  unfortunate  child  of  McNeil.  Colin's 
dark  face  was  on  fire  with  anger  and  hatred. 

"  I  will  find  him  out,  dear  uncle,  if  I  go  to 
the  gates  of  hell  for  the  information !  " 


252  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  MCNEIL. 

"  Go  to  the  gates  of  heaven,  my  lad ;  com 
mit  your  way  to  God  and  His  angels,  and  they 
will  direct  your  steps." 

They  were  the  minister's  last  words  as  he 
held  Colin's  hand  in  adieu.  A  tight  grip  an 
swered  them,  but  he  looked  beyond  the  minister 
to  where  the  outraged  and  bereaved  father  stood 
trembling  with  rage  and  sorrow ;  and  the  look 
was  one  the  two  men  understood,  —  a  life  for 
a  life. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

COLIN  AND   GRIZELDA. 

The  heart  is  its  own  fate. 

There  are  points  from  which  we  can  command  our  life  : 
when  the  soul  sweeps  the  future  like  a  glass,  and  coming 
things,  full-freighted  with  our  fate,  jut  out  dark  on  the  offing 
of  the  mind. 

Her  soul  dilated  at  the  sound  of  doors 

That  opened  to  the  future. 

T  TPON  the  whole,  the  interview  had  been  a 
U  pleasant  one  to  Lord  Maxwell.  He  re 
hearsed  it,  with  sundry  additions,  to  his  wife 
as  they  sat  in  the  spring  sunshine  laughing  over 
it.  For  the  statements  made  to  McNeil  were 
substantially  true,  and  had  been  so  accepted 
by  every  one  in  Rome;  but  beyond  this  con 
fession  of  Anatalja's  there  was  a  circumstance 
known  only  to  Maxwell.  The  confession  was 
in  fact  dictated  by  Maxwell.  He  had  found 
that  Julia's  family  had  positively  objected  to 
a  marriage  between  them  until  there  was  a  cer 
tainty  of  Grizelda's  death ;  and  though  he  had 


254  TIIE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  Me  NEIL. 

no  doubt  of  it  himself,  he  could  not  bring  Pcppo 
to  confirm  his  convictions. 

One  day  he  heard  casually  of  the  capture  of 
Anatalja  and  his  condemnation.  "  Now  that 
hope  is  over  he  will  make  a  confession,"  said 
a  Roman  gentleman  present;  "they  all  do." 
These  words  set  everything  clear  to  Lord  Max 
well.  He  easily  procured  an  interview  with  the 
criminal.  He  found  that  it  was  still  easier  to 
induce  him  to  add  Grizelda's  abduction  and 
murder  to  the  list  of  crimes  in  his  confession. 
The  man  had  the  miserable  vanity  of  his  class,  — 
he  desired  his  list  to  be  a  long  one,  the  long 
est  of  his  time ;  and  besides,  he  was  to  get  fifty 
pounds  for  his  complaisance.  Fifty  pounds 
would  buy  a  gold  necklace  for  his  mistress,  and 
say  some  masses  for  his  own  soul.  He  looked 
on  Maxwell's  offer  as  a  special  favour  of  his 
patron  saint. 

This  printed  confession  embodied  the  state 
ment  Maxwell  made  to  McNeil.  It  was  consid 
ered  by  every  one  satisfactory  as  to  the  fate  of 
Lady  Maxwell;  and  after  it  the  preparations 
for  Lord  Maxwell's  second  marriage,  with  Miss 
Casselis,  went  forward  with  the  approbation  of 
all  concerned. 


COLIN  AND    CRIZELDA.  255 

But  plausible  as  the  explanation  of  the  mys 
tery  seemed,  it  was  a  lie  from  the  beginning. 
Grizelda  was  living.  Grizelda  was  in  Rome; 
and  she  read  with  a  mournful  smile  the  assur 
ance  of  her  murder.  It  cut  her  still  further  off 
from  the  dead  past,  and  she  was  glad  to  think 
that  so  long  a  time  had  gone  by  ere  her  father 
and  Colin  would  have  the  certainty  of  her  death. 
The  sting  of  it  was  over.  Who  would  weep 
again  for  what  they  must  believe  was  now  a 
handful  of  dust? 

Yet  as  she  sat  with  the  rudely  printed  confes 
sion  in  her  hand  she  was  a  woman  of  splendid 
beauty.  Between  her  and  the  cold,  sorrowful 
wife  whom  Peppo  had  taken  without  a  shadow 
of  resistance  from  her  husband's  care,  there  was 
the  difference  of  the  pallid  dawn  and  the  glori 
ous  noonday. 

She  did  not  faint  that  night  in  Peppo's  arms 
as  Maxwell  supposed.  On  the  contrary,  she 
gathered  strength  with  every  step  he  carried 
her;  and  within  a  hundred  yards  from  the 
road  she  was  met  by  Caterina,  who  took  her 
into  charge  with  pitying  words  and  tears. 

Grizelda  wrapped  her  fur  mantle  around  her, 
for  there  was  no  time  for  a  change  of  costume, 


256  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL. 

and  the  two  women  silently  and  swiftly  rode 
southward  until  after  the  day  had  broken. 
Then,  in  a  lonely  wood,  Grizelda  threw  off  the 
white  robe  stained  with  such  sad  memories;  it 
was  dropped  into  a  hollow  tree,  and  Caterina 
dressed  her  in  a  peasant's  costume.  She  would 
have  given  her  money  and  jewels  to  Caterina, 
but  the  woman  would  not  touch  them. 

"Your  life  for  my  life,"  she  answered;  "all 
else  is  too  little  payment." 

It  was  the  evening  of  the  second  day  when 
they  stopped  at  the  door  of  a  cottage.  They 
were  in  a  secluded  valley,  and  the  cottage  was 
surrounded  by  a  vineyard. 

"  It  is  your  own,  my  lady,"  said  Caterina. 
"  Peppo  was  born  here.  He  knows  every  one 
within  fifty  miles.  You  are  as  safe  as  if  you 
were  in  England." 

The  assurance  was  very  welcome.  Grizelda 
was  greatly  fatigued ;  the  fear  of  being  retaken 
had  alone  kept  her  in  the  saddle  during  the 
last  twelve  hours.  She  ate  and  slept,  and  for 
three  days  heeded  not  her  troubles.  In  sleep 
she  sank  below  their  tide;  awake,  she  was 
yet  too  mentally  exhausted  to  consider  her 
situation. 


COLIN  AND  GRIZELDA.  257 

But  in  this  interregnum  of  reason  she  really 
seemed  to  develop  some  new  mental  quality. 
Clearness  of  vision,  intensity  of  will  were  the 
dominant  qualities  of  the  Grizelda  who  awoke 
to  her  new  life.  She  was  alone  with  Caterina. 
All  was  infinite  peace  and  beauty  around  her. 
She  had  a  sense  of  freedom  and  sympathy; 
that,  for  a  short  time,  sufficed  for  happiness. 

Consideration  came  with  the  ability  to  con 
sider.  "  What  must  I  do?  "  She  asked  herself 
this  question  perpetually.  The  first  answer  was 
naturally,  "  Go  home  to  my  father."  But  no 
sooner  was  the  answer  given  than  her  whole 
nature  denied  and  opposed  it.  To  be  robbed 
and  murdered  was  a  calamity,  but  it  was  not  a 
crime;  but  if  she  went  back  to  her  father,  he 
would  be  compelled  to  defend  her  good  name 
by  prosecuting  Lord  Maxwell,  or  she  must  keep 
silence  regarding  her  great  wrong,  and  suffer 
the  blame  and  scorn  usually  given  to  slighted 
wives. 

She  imagined  the  shame  and  trouble  she 
would  bring  upon  all  the  family  of  the  McNeils ; 
their  inquiries,  their  advices,  possibly  their 
reproaches.  She  was  only  a  woman  out  of 
favour  with  fortune;  who  would  believe  her 
17 


258  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  Me  NEIL. 

story?  And  she  never  doubted,  also,  that  Max 
well's  cunning  and  wealth  would  find  plenty  of 
contrary  evidence.  They  might  even  doubt 
her  honour  and  purity.  But  they  could  not 
slander  a  spirit.  Always  she  came  to  the  same 
conclusion :  "  I  cannot  go  home  to  trouble  all 
who  love  me.  It  is  better  they  mourn  me  as 
dead  than  that  they  should  come  to  regard  me 
as  a  trial  and  a  shame." 

There  was  also  a  very  important  event  to  be 
considered  in  all  Grizelda's  plans.  When  the 
spring  came,  she  would,  if  God  had  so  much 
mercy  upon  her,  have  a  child.  Here  she  could 
rest  in  peace  with  Caterina  until  its  birth.  If 
Helen  had  been  alive,  she  would  certainly  have 
gone  to  her ;  but  she  dreaded  the  lonely  castle, 
into  which  of  necessity  she  must  take  with  her 
an  instant  discussion  of  her  wrongs. 

"Till  my  baby  comes;  till  I  am  strong  to  feel 
and  to  labour,  I  will  be  quiet.  I  will  trust  to 
Caterina."  This  resolution  was  the  only  one 
she  found  herself  able  to  accept.  It  precisely 
fitted  her  physical  and  mental  temper.  She 
had  the  consciousness  within  herself  that  she 
was  doing  right. 

The  time  passed  like  a  peaceful  dream.     She 


COLIN  AND    GR1ZELDA.  259 

let  the  new  hope  fill  her  life.  Caterina  went 
into  the  nearest  towns  and  bought  her  all  she 
needed,  and  she  sat  sewing  prayers  and  hopes 
into  the  little  garments  she  was  preparing.  She 
put  the  past,  with  all  its  loves  and  sorrows, 
resolutely  behind  her. 

The  child  was  born  at  the  close  of  April.  It 
was  a  fine  boy,  with  all  the  physical  traits  of 
the  McNeils;  a  rosy,  healthy,  laughing  baby, 
that  never  by  any  trick  of  feature  or  contradic 
tion  of  temper  reminded  her  of  its  father.  A 
wonderful  baby  it  was  to  the  two  women ;  and 
somehow  the  time  slipped  on  until  the  hot 
season  was  upon  them,  and  it  was  unsafe  to 
move  into  the  city. 

For  back  to  Rome  Grizelda  had  determined 
to  go.  That  was  the  one  place  that  no  mortal 
would  seek  her  in.  And  she  had  her  own  plan 
for  living  there.  "  Indeed,"  she  said  to  Caterina, 
"  it  is  the  brave  who  are  not  discovered.  If  I 
remain  here,  some  passing  traveller  will  stop  and 
recognize  me." 

It  was  the  beginning  of  winter  when  she  en 
tered  Rome  again.  The  shadows  of  the  night 
were  darkening  the  streets;  every  one  was 
weary  with  the  day,  and  hastening  to  his  home. 


26b  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

Grizelda  was  slightly  veiled,  and  her  figure 
somewhat  disguised  in  a  loose  cloak.  Caterina 
carried  the  babe  and  walked  by  her  side. 
People  jostled  them  on  the  Corso,  but  no  one 
was  attracted  by  their  appearance. 

Grizelda  led  the  way  to  the  lofty  old  palace 
in  which  Signor  Donata  resided.  She  knew 
that  his  living-rooms  were  above  his  studio,  and 
she  went  directly  to  them.  The  porter  at  the 
door  gave  her  some  anxiety;  but  fortunately 
he  had  been  changed,  and  the  new  one  looked 
carelessly  at  her. 

She  knocked  sharply  at  the  door  of  the  Sig- 
nor's  apartments,  and  Signora  Donata  herself 
answered  the  summons.  She  thought  it  had 
been  her  husband's  signal,  and  was  amazed  to 
see  the  two  women  and  the  babe.  But  it  only 
needed  a  whispered  sentence  from  Grizelda 
to  make  the  white-haired  old  lady  exclaim 
pitifully,  — 

"  Holy  Mother !  Come  in,  my  poor  little 
one!  And  is  this  thy  dear  babe?  And  thy 
friend?" 

That  night  Grizelda  opened  her  heart  to  the 
Donatas.  They  thought  it  their  duty,  first,  to 
urge  on  her  a  return  to  her  people ;  but  finding 


COLIN  AND   GRIZELDA.  26 1 

Grizelda  immovable  on  that  subject,  they  en 
tered  with  all  their  kindly  hearts  into  her  plans 
for  her  future.  These  were  simple  enough  with 
the  Donatas'  help. 

Above  their  own  floor  there  was  another,  a 
great  bare  garret  with  a  flat  roof,  whose  height 
overtopped  all  the  surrounding  buildings.  Gri 
zelda  resolved  to  furnish  this  with  some  degree 
of  luxury,  and  there,  with  Caterina  and  Peppo, 
make  her  home.  The  roof  would  give  her  air 
and  exercise.  Caterina  would  attend  to  her 
wants  and  her  baby;  Peppo  would  prevent 
impertinent  curiosity;  and  with  the  signer's 
help,  Grizelda  purposed  to  pursue  art,  so  that 
when  her  money  was  gone  she  would  have  a 
trustworthy  resource. 

In  time  this  arrangement  was  carried  out 
very  perfectly.  Unknown  to  all  the  world  below 
her,  Grizelda  made  there  a  beautiful  home. 
Her  child  and  her  painting  absorbed  her;  and 
within  three  years,  her  pretty  pictures  had  a 
reputation,  and  a  very  satisfactory  value.  In 
the  main,  she  was  at  least  content.  Life  was 
too  strong  and  vivid  within  her  for  happiness 
under  such  curtailments;  but  contentment  is  a 
measure  sufficient  for  the  majority  of  our  days. 


262  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL. 

The  little  household  went  on  with  a  placid 
monotony.  Caterina  served  an  early  breakfast, 
and  then  dressed  the  child  and  took  him  with 
her  to  make  such  purchases  as  were  needed; 
between  her  kitchen  and  his  mother's  studio, 
he  passed  the  rest  of  the  day,  or  he  went  upon 
the  roof  with  his  picture-book  and  dreamed  far 
finer  stories  than  any  he  read.  It  was  fortunate 
for  him  that  he  constantly  grew  more  into  the 
resemblance  of  his  mother's  family.  If  he  had 
been  like  his  father!  Grizelda  often  shivered 
at  the  thought ;  and  when  it  came,  she  answered 
it  with  a  prayer  of  gratitude  that  from  such  a 
strait  of  her  mother-love  she  had  been  spared. 

All  day  Grizelda  painted.  Her  ability  was 
not  of  the  highest  order,  but  she  worked  with 
that  patience  which  is  almost  genius.  Her 
touch  was  so  light,  and  her  colouring  so  deli 
cate,  that  her  pictures  attracted  that  very  large 
class  who  are  always  more  satisfied  with  pains 
taking  work  than  with  the  crude  efforts  of  the 
most  original  genius. 

Still,  there  were  days  which  even  Roman 
sunshine  and  fortunate  work  could  not  brighten; 
days  in  which  her  life  seemed  altogether  wrong 
and  out  of  joint.  Little  domestic  troubles  not 


COLIN  AND   GRIZELDA.  263 

to  be  avoided  in  any  home  found  her  out.  Cate- 
rina  was  not  always  up  to  her  highest  level. 
Peppo  wounded  her,  or  kept  her  in  anxiety, 
and  then  Caterina  felt  that  Grizelda's  limitations 
also  limited  her. 

Peppo  was,  indeed,  the  black  sheep  of  the 
small  home.  He  was  always  treading  upon 
that  dangerously  narrow  line  dividing  impru 
dence  from  crime.  For  Peppo  liked  money, 
and  yet  hated  any  prosaic  way  of  getting  money. 
He  would  gamble  or  steal,  he  would  run  any 
risk  short  of  life  and  death  for  it ;  and  therefore 
if  he  were  longer  away  than  usual,  Caterina  was 
a  restless  and  unhappy  woman  to  live  with. 

When  these  small  trials  came,  they  always 
set  Grizelda  thinking.  She  had  then  hours  of 
eager  dissatisfaction  which  made  her  throw 
down  her  brushes  and  walk  rapidly  the  long 
stretch  of  her  softly  carpeted  room.  Never  had 
she  been  so  beautiful ;  and  she  knew  the  fact. 
A  longing  for  the  active  joys  and  sorrows  of 
life  came  over  her  like  a  passion. 

To  her  soul  she  complained:  "This  colour 
less,  tranquil  existence  whose  very  name  is 
'  forgetfulness '  gives  me  only  the  constant 
anguish  of  patience."  And  though  her  soul 


264  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNElL. 

whispered  back  that  she  had  far  more  than  she 
had  asked  for  when  she  cast  herself  alone  upon 
God's  care,  that  she  was  secure  and  peaceful 
in  the  present  life,  and  had  the  hopes  of  the 
future  in  reserve,  she  almost  angrily  denied  the 
consolation. 

"  I  may,  indeed,  be  comforted  of  God  when 
I  am  dead,  but  now — now?  I  am  hungry  for 
the  joys  He  has  forbidden  me." 

Your  own  fault,  alas !  —  your  own  fault, 
Grizelda. 

These  dissatisfactions  naturally  grew  with 
time  ;  they  became  stronger  and  more  frequent. 
For  if  Grizelda  were  dreaming  of  a  wider  life, 
Caterina  also  had  longings  for  a  cottage  of  her 
own,  where  she  would  be  absolute  mistress  of 
her  time  and  work,  and  into  which  the  neigh 
bours  would  come  and  go  with  the  village 
gossip. 

Never  had  these  human  cravings  been  so 
decided  in  each  heart  as  during  that  very 
springtime  when  Lord  Maxwell  brought  his 
second  bride  to  Blairgowrie.  While  Colin  was 
hastening  to  Rome  to  secure,  if  still  possible, 
the  remains  of  his  cousin,  and  carry  them  back 
to  share  the  resting-place  of  her  sister,  Grizelda 


COLIN  AND   GRIZELDA.  265 

was  herself  unable  to  sleep  by  night  or  work 
by  day  for  the  passionate  longing  to  see  her 
home  which  possessed  her. 

One  plan  after  another  was  formed  and  aban 
doned.  She  blamed  herself  for  evading  at  the 
first  the  struggle  which  she  must  now  enter  with 
all  the  disadvantages  which  lapse  of  time  entails 
on  the  complainant  in  any  case. 

When  she  had  been  mourned  and  forgotten, 
it  would  be  twice  as  hard  for  her  friends  to 
espouse  her  cause.  Perhaps  they  might  even 
feel  the  righting  of  Lady  Maxwell  to  be  a  great 
wrong  to  the  McNeils.  Colin  had  possibly 
made  other  ties.  There  might  be  children  in 
McNeil  Castle,  and  her  child  might  not  be  wel 
come  among  them.  If  she  returned  home,  and 
said,  "  I  am  here,"  would  her  friends  be  de 
lighted  or  embarrassed?  Would  there  be  any 
place  for  her? 

Such  thoughts  occupied  her  one  morning  so 
exclusively  that  she  was  obliged  to  give  her 
mind  up  to  them.  There  was  an  air  of  irrita 
bility  in  the  home  that  fitted  them.  Little 
Archibald  felt  the  influence.  He  did  not  ven 
ture  from  his  mother's  room,  but  lay  curled  up 
on  a  sofa.  His  childish  face,  with  its  wistful, 


266  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  MCNEIL. 

pathetic  look,  wounded  her  like  a  sword.  She 
could  bear  the  shadow  on  her  own  life;  but 
when  it  darkened  the  boy's,  she  felt  that  she 
must  carry  him  into  the  sunshine. 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door.  She  knew 
that  it  was  Signor  Donata's  knock,  and  she  was 
annoyed  at  the  intrusion,  — just  then  the  sale  of 
pictures  did  not  interest  her.  But  as  soon  as 
he  entered  she  saw  that  his  face  had  not  its 
usual  expression.  She  sent  the  child  to  the 
roof,  and  asked,  — 

"  Is  there  anything  strange,  Signor?  " 

"  I  will  tell  you,  Milady.  This  morning  that 
beautiful  Miss  Ferrars  was  to  come  to  my  studio 
at  eleven  o'clock.  She  had  promised  me  a  sit 
ting  for  her  likeness.  But  it  is  at  ten  she  comes, 
and  says,  '  Pray,  Signor,  excuse  me  to-day. 
There  is  to  be  a  great  service  at  the  English 
church  over  the  remains  of  that  poor  Lady 
Maxwell  who  was  murdered  nearly  six  years 
ago,  and  every  one  will  be  there.'  " 

"What  said  you  to  her?  " 

"  I  said,  '  It  is  late  for  Lord  Maxwell  to  per 
form  the  rite  which  he  ought  to  have  observed 
immediately  after  Anatalja's  confession ;  '  and  she 
answered,  '  Oh,  indeed,  the  wretch  has  nothing 


COLIN  AND   GRIZELDA.  267 

to  do  with  the  service.  It  is  the  lady's  cousin 
from  Scotland,  the  handsomest  of  men,  I  assure 
you.  We  saw  him  yesterday  walking  bare 
headed  before  the  coffin,  as  it  was  carried  into 
the  church.'  Milady,  pardon  me,  but  indeed 
this  seclusion  of  yours  goes  too  far." 

"  Signer,  the  same  thought  is  in  my  own 
heart.  Will  you  take  a  letter  to  my  cousin 
Colin  for  me?  " 

"  I  will  go  as  soon  as  you  have  written  it." 
She  sat  down  at  her  desk,  and  on  a  sheet  of 
paper  drew  rapidly  in  one  corner  a  view  of  Mc 
Neil   Castle.     Below   it  she   wrote  in  her  own 
free,  flowing  hand,  — 

The  bearer  of  this  will  bring  Mr.  Colin  McNeil  to 
one  who  will  give  him  all  information  regarding  his 
cousin  Grizelda. 

Colin  opened  the  letter  with  a  haughty  in 
difference  ;  but  his  dark,  ruddy  face  was  an  in 
teresting  study  to  the  artist,  and  he  watched 
keenly  for  the  transformation  he  expected.  It 
came  instantaneously.  Wonder,  amazement, 
hope,  impatience  passed  like  thoughts  across  it. 

"  Sir,"  he  said,  "  I  was  less  than  civil  to  you. 
I  have  had  so  many  useless  and  curious  intru- 


268  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNElL. 

sions.  Pardon  me.  This  moment  I  am  at  your 
service." 

Donata  frankly  took  the  hand  offered,  and 
the  two  men,  without  delay,  went  out  together. 
Ten  minutes'  walk  brought  them  to  Donata's 
residence.  At  his  own  door  he  stopped  and 
said,  — 

"  Such  help  as  I  could  give  is  now  ended. 
You  will  find  the  writer  of  the  letter  on  the  next 
floor." 

Perhaps  Donata  was  a  little  offended  at  Colin's 
reticence  and  undemonstrative  manner.  But  he 
quickly  began  to  make  excuses. 

"  The  man  is  proud  as  Lucifer ;  he  would 
die  rather  than  show  he  had  a  feeling.  I  dare 
say  he  will  walk  up  to  his  cousin  as  if  he  had 
seen  her  yesterday,  and  say,  '  Good  morning, 
Grizelda ;  I  hope  you  are  quite  well.' " 

Colin's  knock  was  expected  by  Grizelda ;  her 
ears  had  ached  for  it.  She  stood  up,  flushed 
and  trembling,  to  meet  the  fate  she  had  called 
to  her.  Caterina  opened  the  door.  No  gentle 
man  but  Donata  had  ever  called  there,  and  a 
sudden  presentiment,  a  recognition,  almost 
spoke  for  her.  She  pointed  to  Grizelda's 
apartment. 


COLIN  AND   GRIZELDA.  269 

"  My  mistress  is  present." 

He  made  no  answer  and  no  delay.  In  a  mo 
ment  he  stood  in  Grizelda's  presence.  She 
gave  a  sharp  cry;  he  opened  his  arms,  and 
instantaneously  he  held  her  safely  within  them. 
The  long  tension  snapped  with  tears,  —  Grizelda 
felt  them  dropping  upon  her  face  as  he  kissed 
her,  —  and  tears  with  Colin  meant  the  very  ex 
tremity  of  emotion.  Only  for  Helen's  death  and 
Grizelda's  recovery  had  he  ever  shed  them. 

His  coming  into  the  house  changed  every 
thing  in  it.  Caterina  felt  the  influence  imme 
diately.  She  knew  that  the  end  was  near,  and 
she  met  it  with  congratulations  and  smiles. 
She  gave  the  household  an  air  of  festival.  She 
sympathized  with  all  her  heart  in  the  joy  of  the 
woman  who  had  been  lost  and  was  found 
again. 

Not  until  this  day  had  Grizelda  heard  of  Lord 
Maxwell's  second  marriage.  Whatever  was 
undecided  in  her  plans,  it  decided;  no  one 
should  wrong  her  child.  To  delay  her  own 
vindication  was  now  to  cloud  his  birth  and  im 
peril  his  inheritance.  Colin's  clear  mind  took 
in  at  once  all  that  was  to  be  done,  and  Grizelda 
put  herself  entirely  in  his  hands. 


2/O  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  MCNEIL. 

Secrecy  was  still  the  first  necessity,  and  there 
fore  it  was  thought  best  to  allow  the  funeral 
rites  to  proceed. 

"  Though  we  know  not  whom  we  honour, 
blessed  is  the  man  who  is  merciful  to  the  dead," 
said  Colin,  quoting  the  pious  proverb  of  his 
race.  But  he  could  not  help  recalling  the  poor 
handful  of  shrouded  dust,  and  comparing  it 
with  Grizelda  sitting  at  his  side,  instinct  with 
life  and  crowned  with  beauty. 

The  Donatas  and  Caterina  were  speedily 
taken  into  the  plan  for  retribution.  They  were 
indeed  an  important  part  of  it.  On  their  testi 
mony  all  depended,  if  Maxwell  was  disposed  to 
make  any  effort  to  fight  the  Nemesis  unrelent 
ingly  advancing. 

Peppo  was  the  one  uncertain  factor.  Colin 
feared  that  his  support  would  be  given  to  the 
highest  bidder ;  but  while  this  fear  was  on  his 
tongue,  Peppo  unexpectedly  came  home.  His 
dark,  handsome  face  gleamed  with  a  wicked 
intelligence  as  soon  as  he  saw  the  direction  in 
which  events  were  tending.  His  hatred  of  Max 
well  flamed  up  with  all  the  intensity  of  a  sub 
dued  force. 

Would  he  go  to  Scotland  to  confound  him? 


COLIN  AND   GRIZELDA.  271 

He  would  go  to  the  end  of  the  earth  for  such  a 
delightful  object.  How  soon  could  he  go?  If 
Milord  McNeil  could  settle  the  terms,  he  could 
be  ready  in  an  hour. 

He  pointed  out  with  considerable  pride  that 
he  had  been  faithful  to  Grizelda  for  six  years, 
he  and  Caterina;  that  her  famous  jewels  had 
been  at  his  fingers'  ends  during  the  whole  time, 
and  his  honour  had  been  invincible  to  the 
temptation. 

And  Colin,  though  a  prudent  man  in  money 
matters,  forgot  prudence  in  this  case.  He  made 
Peppo  and  Caterina  such  a  stupendously  gener 
ous  offer  that  they  were  almost  beside  them 
selves  with  joy.  The  farm  and  vineyard,  the 
fine  stone  houses  with  porticos,  which  had 
been  Peppo's  most  extravagant  dream,  were  a 
certainty ;  for  the  money  was  to  be  deposited 
for  him  in  a  Roman  bank  ere  he  left  for  Scot 
land,  and  three  months  after  date  he  could 
draw  it. 

"  How  excellent  a  thing  it  is  to  be  kind  to 
the  unfortunate,"  he  said  to  Caterina,  as  they 
discussed  their  prospects  by  the  kitchen  hearth. 
"  If  I  had  not  had  a  great  soul,  Caterina,  reflect 
how  much  we  should  have  lost !  But  I  had  pity 


2/2  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  MCNEIL. 

upon  milady;  I  was  the  soul  of  honour  about 
those  jewels ;  consequently,  I  could  make  a  good 
bargain.  And  when  I  think  of  that  sneering 
wolf  in  man's  clothing  I  am  happy,  Caterina.  I 
am  going  to  have  a  little  pleasure.  The  brute 
tried  to  steal  the  jewels, — ah,  I  have  not  for 
given  him." 

Caterina  heard  all  this  self-applause  with  that 
sublime  patience  and  restraint  good  wives  learn. 
She  never  reminded  him  of  her  own  entreaties 
on  Grizelda's  behalf,  never  alluded  to  the  fact 
that  she  had  often  felt  compelled  to  put  the 
jewels  where  they  could  not  be  at  his  fingers' 
ends ;  she  permitted  him  to  claim  with  com 
plaisance  all  the  good  qualities  he  had  no  right 
to,  —  unless,  indeed,  a  husband  may  rightfully 
claim  a  wife's  virtues  as  well  as  her  services. 

In  three  days  they  were  on  the  road  to  Scot 
land.  Colin  had  Grizelda  and  her  child  in  his 
loving  care ;  Peppo,  in  all  the  splendour  of  a  new 
travelling-suit,  protected  Caterina.  The  Dona- 
tas  were  to  follow  if  their  testimony  was  re 
quired,  but  Colin  had  come  to  regard  Peppo's 
opinion  of  Maxwell  as  a  definitely  true  one. 

"  He  will  go  to  the  feet,  Milord  McNeil,  —  he 
will  go  to  the  feet,  and  you  will  kick  him  away." 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE   GIFT   OF   GLADNESS. 

Are  thy  dearest  still 

With  thee  on  earth  ?  do  their  sweet  voices  fill 
The  house  with  singing?     Let  the  fairest  room 
Be  for  the  Master's  use,  and  from  His  shrine 
Blessing  and  peace  shall  rest  on  thee  and  thine. 

COLIN'S  departure  for  Rome  left  the  laird 
lonely  indeed.  Brodick's  work  was  now 
all  that  his  hands  and  heart  could  manage,  and 
it  was  so  methodically  arranged  that  almost 
every  hour  had  its  own  claim.  Generally,  how 
ever,  at  evening,  he  might  be  seen  going  toward 
the  castle  to  talk  awhile  with  his  life-long  friend. 
But  McNeil  had  come  to  a  point  at  which  anger 
and  grief  had  passed  silence.  If  Colin  brought 
back  any  remains  of  his  poor  Grizelda,  he  was 
determined  to  call  all  the  neighbourhood  to 
gether  to  her  burial,  and  tell  the  gathered  lairds 
at  her  grave-side  the  story  of  her  wretched 
married  life  and  her  tragic  death.  He  had 
other  plans  of  vengeance,  all  alike  foolish,  ancj 
18 


2/4  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  MCNEIL. 

out  of  touch  with  the  changed  feelings  which 
his  own  improvements  had  mainly  induced ; 
for  he  forgot  that  in  bringing  the  vivid  life  of 
the  nineteenth  century  into  the  quiet  hills,  he 
had  brought  with  it  the  selfish,  time-serving, 
politic  spirit  which  is  part  and  parcel  of  it. 

He  said  to  himself:  "  When  my  grandfather 
fell  out  with  Black  McAllister,  every  laird,  far 
and  near,  stood  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  Mc 
Neil.  They  would  have  drawn  their  dirks  in 
his  quarrel  as  if  it  was  their  own;  and  they 
made  McAllister's  life  that  miserable  that  he 
was  glad  enough  to  get  out  of  their  ken.  His 
wrongs  were  only  money  wrongs,  but  mine ! 
Every  father's  heart  must  beat  with  mine !  " 

McNeil  was  a  few  years  too  late  to  make  such 
a  prediction.  Even  ten  years  previously  he 
might  have  justifiably  trusted  in  it,  and  found 
his  trust  not  in  vain ;  but  he  had  himself  called 
unto  him  a  new  era.  Men  insensibly  change 
with  the  circumstances  around  them;  the  stir 
or  stillness  of  the  atmosphere  they  breathe  even 
has  its  effect.  Some  of  the  neighbouring  gentry 
felt,  in  a  large  measure,  all  the  jealousy  Max 
well  had  expressed.  They  wondered  they  had 
not  thought  of  the  laird's  plans ;  they  came  in 


THE   GIFT  OF  GLADNESS.  2/5 

time  to  wonder  if  they  had  not  been  really  the 
first  to  think  of  them,  and  to  regard  McNeil  as 
a  man  who  had  taken  advantage,  because  he 
had  aye  the  ready  money  laying  for  any  scheme. 
Greenlees  "  remembered  speaking  of  a  lobster 
fishery;"  Tallisker  had  often  thought  of  an 
hotel,  and  he  had  no  doubt  he  had  spoken  the 
thought  "  when  the  whiskey  was  aboon  the  wit." 
Other  families  had  been  seriously  offended 
by  Colin's  indifference  to  their  pretty  daughters. 
"  No  one  but  a  McNeil  is  good  enough  for  the 
proud  lad,"  was  said  with  a  jocularity  which  had 
much  real  bitterness  in  it.  A  large  number, 
in  any  open  quarrel  between  Maxwell  and  Mc 
Neil,  would  side  with  Maxwell  from  the  simple 
consideration  that  McNeil  lived  a  selfishly  lonely 
life  in  his  old  castle,  intent  only  on  amassing 
money  and  advancing  his  many  new  schemes ; 
while  Lord  Maxwell  had  just  brought  home  a 
stylish  young  bride,  who  had  already  given 
promises  of  balls  and  hunts  and  gayeties  of 
all  kinds.  What  did  this  large  class  care  that 
McNeil's  lobster  fleet  had  given  bread  to 
many  otherwise  starving  people?  Maxwell  had 
brought  with  him  a  lovely  yacht,  and  pleasure 
sails  to  lona  and  Oban  were  looked  forward  to. 


2/6  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL. 

Though  McNeil  never  took  these  facts  into 
consideration,  Brodick  did.  He  foresaw  that 
any  public  appeal  for  sympathy  would  be  coldly 
and  silently  received.  He  begged  the  laird  to 
abandon  an  idea  which  had  outlived  the  age  in 
which  it  would  have  raised  a  passionate  parti 
sanship.  So  perhaps  these  weeks  of  Colin's 
last  absence  were  the  hardest  that  McNeil  had 
ever  known.  Maxwell  troubled  him  wherever 
he  turned.  If  he  went  to  the  hotel,  Maxwell's 
fine  carriage  was  standing  before  the  door ;  and 
Maxwell  was  lounging  about  the  bar,  giving 
orders  with  the  air  of  a  proprietor. 

He  found  him  talking  familiarly  with  his 
fishers  and  stone-masons.  In  spite  of  all  that 
McNeil  could  say,  the  landlord  of  the  McNeil 
hotel  was  on  the  most  obsequiously  familiar 
terms  with  him.  Everywhere  he  turned,  Max 
well's  face  or  words,  his  carriage,  his  horses,  or 
his  yacht  troubled  him,  —  troubled  him  mainly 
because  they  were  a  direct  pleasure  to  nearly 
every  one  but  himself. 

Outwardly,  the  laird  made  little  sign.  Only 
once  did  he  suffer  his  private  feelings  to  in 
fluence  his  sense  of  justice.  Two  of  his  fishers 
were  seen  by  him  in  a  state  of  pleased  excite- 


THE   GIFT  OF  GLADNESS.  2// 

ment  over  Maxwell's  chat  with  them.  He 
could  hear  their  laughter,  and  he  suspected 
that  Maxwell  had  been  making  ridicule  of  him, 
and  that  they  were  rehearsing  the  fun.  He 
strode  impetuously  to  them. 

"  Sandy  Locke  and  James  Begg,  you  can 
drop  your  nets  and  leave  my  boats  instanter. 
I  '11  pay  you  your  wage,  and  then  you  '11  be 
free  to  serve  the  man  you  like  best." 

He  knew  he  had  made  a  mistake  the  moment 
he  had  spoken;  but  for  nothing  would  he  re 
tract  the  words,  and  the  men  were  sure  of  it. 
They  took  their  money  sullenly,  and  went  to 
Maxwell,  who  turned  their  heads  and  set  their 
tongues  loose  at  both  ends  by  his  munificent 
reparation  of  McNeil's  wrong. 

"  You  should  not  have  put  a  weapon  in  Max 
well's  hand,  McNeil,"  said  Brodick. 

"  I  would  rather  do  that,  Brodick,  and  know 
by  the  act  that  I  have  some  natural  feeling  left; 
and  I  am  not  going  to  settle  my  feelings  by 
square  and  rule,  so  you  need  not  advise  it.  If 
I  am  pleased,  I  '11  say  so ;  if  I  am  hurt,  I  '11 
show  it." 

But  in  days  so  haunted  and  vexed  by  petty 
personal  worries,  it  was  impossible  for  McNeil 


2/8  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  MCNEIL. 

to  gather  any  mental  strength.  The  fret  and 
jar  made  his  life's  wheels  move  heavily.  He 
was  unhappy ;  and  when  he  tried  to  analyze  the 
sources  of  his  discomfort,  his  temper  suffered, 
and  his  magnanimity  failed  him  from  the  very 
insignificance  of  his  grievances. 

One  night,  in  a  pitiful  effort  to  make  Brodick 
understand  his  trouble,  and  his  shame  at  it,  he 
fairly  broke  down,  and  covered  his  eyes  with 
his  large  hands  to  hide  the  tears  that  amazed 
himself  as  much  as  if  they  had  been  a  relief 
unknown  before. 

Brodick  let  him  weep.  He  took  no  notice  of 
an  occurrence  so  sudden  and  surprising.  These 
ancient  tears,  whose  source  lay  so  far  back, 
would  soften  and  harmonize  and  temper  the 
angry  man,  would  give  relief  to  more  thoughts 
than  he  knew  of;  for  the  small  cares  that  con 
tract  our  brows  and  drive  away  our  smiles  are 
precisely  those  which  find  no  expression  in 
tears,  yet  for  which  tears  are  often  the  best 
remedy. 

But  even  in  McNeil's  most  confidential  talks 
with  his  friend,  there  was  one  subject  he  never 
named;  the  little  slip  of  paper  that  Helen  had 
given  him.  There  it  lay,  a  dead  hope,  a  dead 


THE   GIFT  OF  CLADATESS.  2/9 

trust,  in  the  innermost  room  of  his  soul,  in  the 
innermost  drawer  of  his  desk.  One  night  as 
he  sat  by  the  few  sticks  blazing  on  his  lonely 
hearth,  he  was  startled  by  a  remembrance  of 
it,  so  sudden  and  imperative  that  he  trembled 
through  all  the  depths  of  his  spiritual  nature. 

Was  it  for  this  that  God  was  striving  with 
him,  that  he  had  lost  Grizelda,  that  his  enemy 
was  permitted  to  triumph  over  him  in  every 
way?  Was  it  this  silent  money  in  its  hiding- 
place  which  was  calling  sorrow  and  humiliation 
unto  him?  He  went  to  his  bed  full  of  such 
thoughts. 

Oh,  mystery  of  life  !  From  what  depths  pro 
ceed  thy  comforts  and  thy  lessons !  At  early 
dawn  he  awoke  from  a  deep  sleep  in  an  inde 
scribable  awe.  In  a  vision  of  the  night  he  had 
visited  that  piteous  home  which  Memory  builds, 
and  where  only  in  sleep  we  can  walk.  Whom 
had  he  seen  there  ?  What  message  had  he  re 
ceived?  These  things  he  never  told. 

But  directly  after  breakfast  he  walked  down 
to  the  manse.  There  had  been  a  good  brush 
of  rain  in  the  night,  and  everything  had  that 
damp  freshness  which  is  so  delightful  when 
there  is  sunshine  and  wind  with  it.  The  sea 


280  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

was  frilled  and  capped  and  a  little  rough.  The 
rocks  echoed  with  bouncing  water  as  wave 
rolled  after  wave  in  torrent  rapture. 

He  stood  still  a  moment  to  watch  them,  or 
rather  to  watch  the  sea-pyots  in  their  dainty 
black  and  white  plumage  breasting  themselves 
as  quietly  on  the  tossing  water  as  a  hen  sits  on 
her  nest. 

The  sight  calmed  him,  and  uplifted  him  also. 
He  went  into  Brodick's  presence  ready  to  ask 
his  counsel,  but  also  ready  to  defend  his  own 
opinions.  He  told  the  minister  of  Helen's  be 
quest;  he  went  over  the  arguments  which  had 
hitherto  quieted  his  conscience.  He  anxiously 
watched  their  effect  on  Brodick's  face.  He 
had  a  strong  hope  that  he  might  think  them 
reasonable. 

But  the  table  at  which  Brodick  sat  was  not 
more  undemonstrative  than  his  face.  For  once 
he  controlled  himself  absolutely  until  McNeil 
had  fully  finished  his  statement;  then  he 
said,  — 

"  I  will  take  no  responsibility  in  this  matter, 
McNeil.  It  is  between  you  and  your  con 
science.  If  you  give  it,  give  it  without  grudging. 
Give  it  cheerfully.  God  loves  a  cheerful  giver." 


THE   GIFT  OF  GLADNESS.  28 1 

"  I  thought  you  would  tell  me  what  to  do." 

"  If  you  really  want  to  know,  shut  yourself 
in  your  own  room  and  think  it  out." 

"  It  is  a  big  sum,  Brodick." 

"  It  is ;  but  maybe  with  the  stupendous 
sacrifice  of  the  Cross  in  your  mind  it  will  not 
look  so  big." 

He  went  away  sorrowful;  and  his  first  at 
tempt  to  think  out  the  subject  was  not  in  the 
line  Brodick  indicated.  Helen  had  said,  "  Give 
the  money  to  God's  poor."  He  sought  for  an 
excuse  in  the  very  wording  of  the  will. 

God  could  take  care  of  His  own  poor.  He 
was  not  needing  his  help.  And  as  for  the 
Devil's  poor,  — the  drunkards  and  wasters  and 
idlers,  —  what  justice  would  there  be  in  help 
ing  them? 

To  this  mood  succeeded  one  of  angry  resis 
tance.  He  would  not  be  forced  to  give,  at  any 
rate.  Not  for  fear,  not  for  suffering  of  any  kind, 
would  he  submit  to  what  he  bluntly  called  a 
superstition.  If  God  saw  well  to  afflict  him, 
He  was  a  just  Judge,  not  one  to  be  bought  with 
a  few  thousand  pounds. 

When  Brodick  came  up  to  the  castle  at  night, 
he  glanced  at  the  laird  with  a  quick,  anxious 


282  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  MCNEIL. 

curiosity.  McNeil  caught  the  glance,  and  an 
swered  it  fretfully:  — 

"  No ;  I  have  not  got  any  satisfaction  from 
my  session  with  myself,  Brodick.  I  am  doubt 
ing  if  there  is  a  need  of  any  special  word.  I 
can't  feel  as  if  I  was  doing  wrong,  sir." 

"  I  was  thinking  after  you  left,  McNeil,  of  the 
man  who  hid  his  talent  in  a  napkin.  Your  desk 
drawer  is  very  like  it." 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind,  Brodick.  I  have  been 
using  the  siller  to  good  purpose  all  along.  Part 
of  it  is  in  the  fishing-boats,  and  part  in  the  new 
town,  and  the  rest  just  here  and  there." 

"  And  you  dinna  feel  as  if  you  were  trading 
with  the  Lord's  money  for  your  own  proper 
advantage  ?  " 

"  All  the  gold  in  the  earth  is  the  Lord's,  for 
that  matter.  He  gives  and  He  takes.  I  'm  not 
settled  in  my  mind  at  all ;  I  will  wait  and  see 
what  Colin  says.  He  has  both  wisdom  and 
some  enthusiasm  left ;  and  he  will  look  at  both 
sides  and  hold  the  balance  even.  He  will  be 
here,  I  hope,  —  I  surely  hope,  —  in  four  days." 

"  Yet  I  would  give  him  a  week,  Laird." 

Brodick  spoke  slowly,  and  his  eyes  dropped. 
The  laird  had  nothing  more  to  say;  he  sat 


THE   GIFT  OF  GLADNESS.  283 

silent,  stooping  forward  with  his  hands  out 
stretched  to  the  blaze.  Now  and  then  he  fur 
tively  glanced  at  Brodick,  who  appeared  to  be 
lost  in  some  melancholy  meditation. 

Suddenly  there  was  the  sound  of  wheels,  a 
murmur  of  voices  in  the  distance ;  and  as  both 
men  rose  inquiringly  to  their  feet,  Colin  opened 
the  door. 

They  looked  at  him,  speechless  with  woqder. 
His  face  was  shining  with  the  joy  behind  it; 
he  walked,  he  spoke  with  the  air  of  a  man  who 
brings  glad  tidings,  almost  too  glad  to  be  borne. 
He  gave  his  hand  to  Brodick,  but  he  put  his 
arm  around  his  uncle's  neck  and  kissed  him. 
It  was  a  momentary  touch  of  rapture,  too  great 
to  last  longer  than  a  moment;  but  in  it  both 
McNeil  and  Brodick  had  been  prepared  for  the 
amazing  happiness  at  hand. 

"Grizelda?" 

It  was  all  the  father  could  ask. 

"  Grizelda  is  found.  She  is  well.  She  is  here. 
Grizelda !  " 

Then  through  the  open  door  came  a  vision 
that  might  have  come  from  heaven, —  Grizelda 
and  her  child.  The  laird  gave  a  loud  cry.  He 
would  have  fallen  but  for  Colin's  arms.  He 


284  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  MCNEIL. 

would  have  fallen  but  that  the  next  moment  he 
felt  Grizelda's  kisses  on  his  lips ;  her  tears  were 
washing  his  face,  her  voice  calling  him  back  to 
the  full  sensation  of  his  blessed  experience. 

He  sat  down  soon,  but  he  kept  her  on  his 
knee,  and  laid  her  cheek  against  his.  He  could 
say  nothing  but  her  name.  Questions,  conver 
sation  were  as  yet  quite  impossible  to  him. 
But,  oh,  when  conversation  came,  when  he 
heard  the  whole  story,  when  he  had  talked  with 
Peppo  and  Caterina,  what  words  were  there  for 
his  grief,  his  indignation,  his  delight  over  the 
retribution  he  clasped  in  his  hand. 

And  what  language  can  describe  that  joyful 
night !  The  hurried  meal,  in  which  every 
luxury  within  reach  was  put  upon  the  table, 
the  wild  excitement  of  the  servants,  the  rapture 
of  the  father,- tbe  beaming  face  of  the  minister 
as  he  tried  to  quiet  the  happy  disturbance ! 
Never  in  McNeil's  memory  of  the  past,  never 
in  all  the  days  to  come,  would  there  be  greater 
joy  in  McNeil  Castle  or  greater  reason  for  it. 

Intentionally  Colin  had  timed  their  arrival 
after  dark.  Until  their  own  plans  with  regard 
to  Maxwell  were  complete,  it  was  better,  it  was 
indeed  a  necessity,  to  keep  Grizelda's  arrival 


THE   GIFT  OF  GLADNESS.  285 

unknown.  Peppo  had  first  thought  of  this  pre 
caution,  and  it  commended  itself  to  every  one 
concerned. 

As  soon,  therefore,  as  McNeil  could  com 
mand  himself,  the  exigency  was  explained  to 
him.  He  saw  it  at  once.  He  called  every 
servant  in  the  place,  men  and  women,  into  his 
presence.  They  were  all  McNeils,  and  he  re 
minded  them  of  it. 

"  Rejoice  with  me,"  he  said,  as  he  went  from 
one  to  another  and  gave  them  his  hands, 
"  rejoice  with  me.  My  daughter  was  lost,  is 
found.  My  daughter  was  dead  and  is  alive 
again !  " 

Then  he  explained  to  them  the  importance 
of  secrecy  and  silence,  and  they  looked  into 
his  face  with  a  sympathy  and  intelligence  that 
no  oath  could  have  strengthened.  And  until 
the  dawn  was  pallid  in  the  east  they  sat  talking 
over  the  pitiful  story.  Its  romance  and  wrong 
moved  their  Celtic  natures  to  tears  and  lamenta 
tions  and  passionate  anticipations  of  vengeance. 

Peppo  looked  at  the  scene  with  critical  amuse 
ment.  The  fumes  of  hot  whiskey  and  the 
smoke  of  coarse  tobacco,  the  tears  and  laughter 
were  far  too  strong  stimulants  for  his  more  in- 


286  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

tellectual  temper.  He  had  a  bottle  of  claret 
from  the  cellar,  and  found  his  cigarette,  and 
Caterina  with  it,  quite  sufficient  for  his  enjoy 
ment  of  the  situation. 

"  But  I  shall  put  an  end  to  this  affair  very 
quickly,  Caterina,"  he  said.  "  We  have  our 
selves  to  look  after  now,  and  this  impertinent 
Maxwell  must  not  delay  us.  I  shall  only  have 
to  speak  to  him.  It  is  I  that  will  do  it  all." 

Brodick  did  not  go  back  to  the  manse  that 
night;  indeed,  the  night  was  far  advanced  when 
the  family  separated,  and  even  then  McNeil 
felt  sleep  to  be  impossible.  When  all  others 
had  found  it,  he  sat  wide  awake  in  his  room, 
enjoying  every  moment  of  his  anticipated 
meeting  with  Maxwell. 

For  all  his  wrongs  and  insults  he  was  going 
to  have  full  payment ;  and  wonder  of  wonders, 
Grizelda  was  back  in  his  home !  He  had  his 
child  again  !  Several  times  he  rose  and  went 
softly  into  the  corridor  and  looked  at  the  door 
of  her  room ;  and  when  the  dawn  was  white  in 
the  east,  he  heard  Grizelda  speaking  to  her 
child,  and  her  voice  made  him  tremble  with  joy. 

"  Do  not  talk,  Archie,  my  darling !  You 
might  awaken  grandfather !  " 


THE   GIFT  OF  GLADNESS.  287 

"  Grandfather !  "  He  had  not  thought  of 
that  before ;  he  felt  a  new  spring  of  love  in  his 
heart,  and  as  he  stood  before  the  window,  and 
the  sunshine  smote  his  wet  eye-lids,  and  made 
a  glory  all  about  him,  an  amazing  thought  came 
into  his  mind. 

With  hasty  steps  he  went  down  stairs  into 
his  parlour.  He  took  from  its  hiding-place 
the  slip  of  paper  that  had  cost  him  so  many 
uncomfortable  hours.  He  let  it  lie  in  the  palm 
of  his  hand,  and  looked  bravely  and  tenderly 
at  it.  He  thought  of  his  restored  child,  of  the 
loyalty  of  Colin,  of  his  prosperous  enterprises, 
of  the  enemy  put  under  his  feet.  He  thought 
of  Helen ;  she  was  still  the  sweetest  and  dear 
est  thought  of  his  heart.  He  let  the  tears 
down  fall  upon  the  paper  as  he  remembered 
her  lovely  life  and  the  glad  triumph  of  her 
dying  words :  "  Oh,  breadth  !  Oh,  depth  !  Oh, 
boundless  length  !  Oh,  inaccessible  height !  Oh, 
Christ's  love  !  " 

He  raised  the  faded,  yellow  bit  of  paper  to 
his  lips.  He  kissed  it  with  a  great  solemnity. 

"  Helen,  sweet  Helen !  all  you  asked  of  me 
I  will  give,  to  the  last  farthing  of  increase ;  it 
shall  go  where  you  willed  it." 


288  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL. 

Without  a  thought  of  reservation,  with  all 
his  soul  he  surrendered.  In  the  moment  of 
gift  he  resigned  by  an  act  of  his  mind  every 
claim.  He  placed  Helen's  note  now  in  his 
pocket-book;  and  before  he  had  reached  his 
sleeping-room  again,  he  was  considering,  with 
his  usual  shrewd  wisdom,  how  to  expend  it  in 
the  wisest  possible  manner. 

"  I  have  no  skill  in  such  investments,"  he 
said,  quite  seriously;  "but  Brodick  and  Mr. 
Selwyn  have,  and  I  will  see  that  not  a  bawbee 
of  Helen's  money  is  wasted.  Only  one  pleas 
ure  will  I  ask  out  of  it,  —  I  love  my  old  college, 
and  as  God  has  not  given  me  a  son  of  my  own, 
I  will  keep  a  lad  there.  As  long  as  it  stands  I 
will  keep  a  good  lad  there,  —  one  that  wants  to 
learn,  and  has  not  the  money  to  pay  for  his  fees 
and  his  feed." 

This  resolution,  so  perfect,  so  final,  so  volun 
tarily  and  gratefully  arrived  at,  gave  him  a 
singular  peace  and  happiness.  He  washed,  and 
then  put  on  his  finest  clothing;  nothing  less 
seemed  in  keeping  with  the  tone  of  his  spirits. 
Though  he  had  not  even  been  in  bed,  he  came 
down  stairs  like  a  giant  refreshed.  Brodick 
looked  admiringly  and  inquisitively  at  him. 


THE   GIFT  OF  GLADATESS.  289 

The  change  was  so  evidently  that  change  which 
comes  from  the  spiritual  body,  that  he  instantly 
suspected  its  cause. 

He  said  softly  to  himself:  — 

"  McNeil  has  been  visited.  He  has  had  one 
of  thae  glad  times,  when  there  is  '  a  song  in 
the  night,  when  a  holy  solemnity  is  kept  and 
gladness  of  heart.'  " 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

RETRIBUTION. 

Run,  spindles,  run,  and  weave  the  threads  of  doom. 

CATULLUS. 

For  the  ills  inflicted  on  men  by  the  gods  they  must  sustain  ; 
but  those  involved  in  voluntary  miseries,  as  thou  art,  on  these 
it  is  not  just  for  any  one  to  bestow  either  pardon  or  pity. 

SOPHOCLES, 

Because  thy  rage  against  me,  and  thy  tumult,  is  come  up 
into  mine  ears,  therefore  will  I  put  my  hook  in  thy  nose,  and 
my  bridle  in  thy  lips,  and  I  will  turn  thee  back  by  the  way  by 
which  thou  earnest.  Is.  xxxvii.  29. 

/T>HE  mental  sympathy  of  clothing  is  far 
•*•  more  widely  felt  than  understood.  With 
out  any  agreement  on  the  subject,  Colin  also 
appeared  in  his  best  toilet,  and  Grizelda  looked 
radiantly  lovely  in  a  rich  costume  of  dark  silk 
and  velvet.  The  shrinking  manner  which  had 
characterized  her  when  last  in  her  father's  house, 
had  given,  place  to  a  noble  serenity.  For  in  the 
continual  presence  of  people  who  are  really  in 
different  to  us,  the  soul  learns  wondrous  self- 
reliances  ;  and  Grizelda  had  now  that  ease  and 


RETRIBUTION.  2QI 

confidence  of  manner  which  can  only  come 
from  a  certainty  of  interior  strength. 

Brodick  had  gone  to  the  village,  but  as  they 
sat  at  breakfast  he  returned.  "I  have  been 
making  inquiries,"  he  said ;  "  Maxwell  went 
away  in  his  new  yacht  two  days  ago,  his  sup 
posed  wife  with  him.  They  will  come  in  on 
the  top  of  the  tide  in  about  an  hour.  I  saw 
their  carriage  going  down  to  the  pier  to  meet 
them." 

"Then  we  have  no  time  to  lose.  Grizelda, 
put  on  your  bonnet  while  I  see  to  our  own 
carriage.  Colin,  come  with  me.  Doctor,  be 
taking  a  cup  of  coffee  till  we  join  you.  I 
hope  the  Italian  and  his  wife  will  not  keep 
us  waiting." 

Peppo  entered  with  the  words.  He  was  in 
his  Roman  costume,  but  then  it  was  of  the  most 
magnificent  materials;  and  Caterina  was  in  a 
glory  of  stripes  and  colour,  and  shining  with 
chains  and  bracelets  of  gold. 

All  intense  feeling  is  laconic.  Perhaps  we 
have  not  yet  discovered  words  to  interpret  emo 
tions  that  are  soul  deep.  So  it  was  a  silent 
party  that  was  driven  rapidly  over  the  moor 
dividing  Edderloch  from  Blairgowrie. 


292  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McKEIL. 

At  the  gates,  McNeil  sent  back  the  carriage. 
He  did  not  wish  to  alarm  Maxwell's  servants 
before  he  had  an  opportunity  to  secure  them. 
Fortunately,  the  gardeners  were  not  in  sight, 
and  the  approach  of  the  McNeil  party  was 
unobserved  by  the  house-servants  who  were 
lingering  over  a  late  breakfast. 

McNeil's  heavy  knock  at  the  main  entrance 
recalled  them  to  the  idea  of  duty.  The  foot 
man,  who  had  a  determination  to  be  insolent  to 
so  early  a  caller,  whoever  it  was,  opened  the 
door.  At  the  sight  of  McNeil  his  face  changed. 
McNeil  laid  his  hand  on  his  shoulder.  He  had 
known  the  man  from  his  boyhood. 

"  Be  whist,  Glammis !  Lady  Maxwell,  what 
are  your  orders  now?  " 

Grizelda  stepped  forward,  and,  throwing  off 
her  cloak  and  bonnet,  looked  at  the  man.  He 
recognized  her  in  a  moment;  and  white  and 
speechless,  sank  into  a  chair. 

"  Listen,  Glammis !  We  must  have  every 
servant  in  the  house  brought  to  this  room. 
Laird  Colin  McNeil  and  myself  will  go  with 
you  to  gather  them.  Brodick,  you  will  stay 
with  my  lady  and  the  strangers." 

In   a   few   minutes    every   man    and   woman 


RE  TRIE  UTION.  293 

were  under  the  laird's  surveillance.  He  was 
determined  that  no  one  should  have  an  oppor 
tunity  to  warn  Maxwell;  and  when  they  were 
together,  he  told  them  such  facts  relating  to 
the  usage  of  Lady  Maxwell  as  it  was  desirable 
should  be  known. 

The  words  fell  into  ears  quite  ready  for  them. 
Lord  Maxwell  and  his  new  wife  had  had  suffi 
cient  time  to  make  themselves  hated  by  their 
household.  Besides  which,  the  vulgar  mind 
loves  something  to  wonder  over.  Had  they 
been  the  best  master  and  mistress  in  the  world, 
they  would  not  have  found  any  pity.  Every 
servant  foresaw,  not  only  a  holiday,  but  a  holi 
day  with  a  sensation,  —  a  sensation  so  great 
that  it  would  serve  them  for  a  lifetime's  gossip. 

As  the  minutes  went  slowly  by,  the  fitful  con 
versation  became  a  painful  silence.  The  laird 
strode  up  and  down  the  main  hall,  keeping 
guard  upon  the  servants,  whom  he  had  placed 
in  a  parlour  on  one  side  of  it.  Grizelda  sat  in 
the  opposite  parlour;  her  face  was  still,  but 
white  as  marble.  Colin  sat  at  her  side  and  held 
her  hand ;  Brodick  stood  at  the  window  watch 
ing.  His  hands  were  clasped  behind  him;  his 
face  stern  yet  flushed  with  excitement.  Gate- 


294  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

rina  was  twirling  her  golden  bracelets,  smilingly 
content,  and  full  of  admiration  for  the  splendid 
Peppo,  whose  dark  eyes  gleamed  with  wicked 
enjoyment,  and  who  tip-toed  about  as  if  he  felt 
himself  to  be  the  master  of  the  ceremonies. 

Suddenly  Brodick  turned  from  the  window, 
saying,  — 

"  He  is  here  !  " 

The  carriage  was  driven  up  to  the  door  at  full 
speed,  and  Maxwell  came  up  the  long  flight  of 
steps  with  a  black  frown  on  his  face.  He  was 
so  angry  with  Lady  Julia  that  he  did  not,  as 
was  usually  his  custom,  give  her  his  arm;  for 
she  had  made  him  wretched  for  two  days.  Her 
face  was  also  cross  and  dissatisfied ;  for  she  had 
been  sea-sick,  and  she  had  got  her  dress  spoiled 
and  her  complexion  burned,  and  she  vowed  she 
"  would  never,  never  go  to  sea  again." 

And  Maxwell's  temper  was  increased  by  the 
closed  door. 

"What  do  those  lazy  dogs  of  servants  mean?" 
he  asked  passionately. 

They  meant  to  permit  him  to  knock  at  the 
door  for  entrance,  and  he  did  it  with  a  force  that 
frightened  them. 

In  a  moment  Peppo  had  opened  it, —  Peppo, 


RETRIBUTION.  295 

gay  and  smiling,  but  with  eyes  full  of  hatred 
and  a  mouth  cruel  as  death. 

"  Peppo ! " 

"  Peppo,  Milor'.  Come  in.  I  shall  not  hurt 
you  —  yet!  And  this  is  your  new  lady?  Per 
Baccho  !  The  old  one  was  far  more  lovely." 

"  Maxwell,  who  is  this  fellow?  " 

Livid  and  faint  with  terror,  he  could  not  an 
swer  Julia  a  word ;  and  at  the  moment,  McNeil 
flung  wide  the  door  of  the  room  he  was  in  and 
called  with  a  might  and  a  majesty  which  echoed 
through  the  whole  house :  — 

"  Grizelda !  Grizelda !  " 

She  answered  the  call  ere  it  was  past.  She 
came  like  an  avenging  spirit  before  them.  The 
sunshine  poured  in  a  flood  of  light  behind  her 
and  set  her  in  a  radiance.  For  a  moment,  she 
stood  silent  and  motionless,  looking  at  the  man 
who  had  sold  her  to  Death. 

The  servants  were  crowding  to  the  door  of 
the  room.  McNeil  beckoned  them  forward ; 
he  wanted  witnesses  of  the  criminal's  fear  and 
abasement.  Colin,  Brodick,  Caterina  were  all 
there.  Maxwell  lifted  his  eyes  in  terror  and 
gazed  at  them. 

Lady  Julia  was  the  first  to  stir  the  awful  tab- 


296  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  Me  NEIL. 

leau.  She  flew  in  a  passion  to  her  husband  and 
touched  him  sharply. 

"  Who  is  that  woman?     Speak!  " 

"  I  thought  she  was  dead,  Julia,  —  before  God, 
I  did !  " 

"  Dio!"  cried  Peppo,  scornfully.  "Madam, 
he  gave  me  six  hundred  pounds  to  kill  her! 
Milady  Maxwell  gave  me  a  thousand  pounds 
to  save  her  alive.  I  have  a  tender  heart." 

"  You  are  a  devil !  "  answered  Maxwell,  re 
covering  himself,  and  attempting  to  seize  the  sup 
ple  Italian,  who  was  instantly  at  McNeil's  side. 

"  Lord  Maxwell,"  said  McNeil,  "  all  your  das 
tardly  crime  is  fully  discovered;  there  is  not  a 
link  in  the  chain  of  evidence  wanting.  You  are 
a  felon,  and  a  felon's  life  of  degradation  and 
labour  is  before  you." 

"And  I!  and  I!— what  ami?"  cried  Julia, 
wringing  her  hands. 

Grizelda  went  to  her. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  you.  Surely  you  must  have 
been  deceived." 

"  I  want  not  your  pity.  What  am  I,  Max 
well?  A  woman  without  rights,  without  name, 
ruined  for  all  my  life !  And  my  child !  my 
child !  wronged  from  his  birth !  " 


RE  TRIE UTION.  297 

"  Julia,  have  pity  on  me  !  I  never  meant  to 
wrong  you.  I  sinned  for  your  love." 

"  Pity !  Love !  I  will  hate  you  to  the  last 
breath  I  draw  !  Think  how  you  have  wronged 
me  !  In  all  your  shameful  deed  the  world  will 
give  me  a  part.  They  will  say  I  knew  it.  I  may 
be  arrested  !  I  may  be  taken  to  prison  —  tried 
like  a  common  criminal !  Oh  !  oh  !  oh  !  " 

She  fell  to  the  floor  with  a  shriek  that  was 
the  only  expression  possible  of  the  rage  and 
hatred  and  terror  that  had  her  in  its  grasp. 

There  was  a  sudden  rush  toward  the  fallen 
woman ;  McNeil  lifted  her  to  a  couch.  When 
he  turned  to  Maxwell,  he  had  fled. 

"  Let  him  go,  father,"  said  Grizelda.  "  For 
my  boy's  sake  let  him  go." 

"  Let  him  go,  McNeil ;  his  sin  will  find  him 
out." 

"  Brodick,  this  vengeance  is  justly  mine ;  I 
have  suffered  six  years  for  it." 

"  Vengeance  is  God's  own  right.  Be  con 
tent,  Laird,  with  the  joy  that  God  has  sent  to 
you." 

Peppo  listened  to  the  conversation  with  in 
terest.  He  had  had  the  pleasure  of  terrifying 
Maxwell;  he  was  now  willing  that  he  should 


298  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL. 

escape.  His  trial  and  punishment  by  law  would 
be  a  tedious  thing.  He  was  already  longing  for 
Italy,  and  the  money  waiting  there  for  him. 
He  was  well  pleased  when  the  decision  was  for 
that  negative  punishment  which  outlawry  from 
all  decent  society,  from  home,  wife,  child,  na 
tive  land,  and  the  privileges  of  his  birth  would 
inflict;  and  though  the  minister  was  a  heretic, 
he  felt  a  certain  delight  in  Brodick's  prediction : 

"  What  if  he  escape  human  justice !  The 
mark  and  the  curse  of  Cain  are  on  him !  For 
the  law  is  not  always  the  hardest  judge,  —  God 
has  secret  punishments  of  which  the  world 
knows  nothing." 

The  news  spread  like  wild-fire  over  the  hills 
and  through  all  the  surrounding  villages;  but 
Maxwell  escaped  before  he  had  to  meet  it  in  his 
neighbours'  faces.  The  dreadful  interview  had 
lasted  but  a  few  minutes ;  he  found  the  horses 
still  in  his  carriage,  and  he  made  the  man  drive 
him  with  furious  haste  to  his  yacht.  The  tide 
was  turned,  the  wind  was  in  his  favour;  before 
Julia  had  recovered  consciousness,  he  was  far 
out  at  sea  with  his  shame  and  fear. 

The  captain  and  most  of  the  crew  had  left  the 
yacht.  There  were  only  himself  and  two  men 


RETRIBUTION.  299 

on  board ;  but  they  knew  enough  to  carry  her 
northward.  Confusion,  anguish,  rage,  despair 
went  with  him.  He  could  neither  eat  nor  drink 
nor  sleep ;  he  had  no  use  for  anything  but 
thought.  He  looked  as  if  hell  was  in  his  heart, 
and  he  in  hell.  Every  moment  some  fresh, 
angry  fiend  of  passion  knocked  at  his  memory, 
and  bade  it  not  be  quiet. 

A  storm  arose  during  the  first  night,  and 
tossed  the  little  ship  hither  and  thither.  He 
made  no  effort  to  save  her.  His  two  compan 
ions  looked  at  him  angrily  and  doubtfully. 
Something  was  wrong.  They  talked  and  won 
dered  themselves  into  a  superstitious  dread  of 
their  employer. 

As  they  scarcely  knew  how  to  manage  the 
yacht,  she  was  driven  before  the  wind  westward 
of  Mull  and  Coll,  and  so  up  the  Little  Minch. 
A  whole  week  passed  in  the  changeable  cur 
rents  and  winds  of  this  stormy  water-way,  and 
Maxwell's  first  frenzy  had  become  a  dismal, 
sullen  stillness.  There  was  a  stupid  weight 
upon  his  senses;  but  he  began  to  perceive  from 
the  looks  of  the  men  with  him  that  they  were 
dissatisfied  and  suspicious. 

He  called  them  into  the  cabin  and  told  them 


300  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL. 

the  lie  that  came  most  readily:  On  his  return 
home  he  had  found  out  something  terrible 
about  his  wife.  He  could  not  live  with  her, 
and  he  hoped  out  at  sea  and  in  solitude  to 
forget  his  shame,  and  find  some  way  out  of 
his  trouble.  Would  they  stay  with  him  and 
help  him? 

Then  the  men  remembered  that  Maxwell  had 
been  cross  with  his  wife  before  she  left  the 
yacht;  they  were  sorry  for  him,  and  reconciled 
to  their  peculiar  voyage.  Maxwell  had  some 
money  with  him;  he  proposed  to  double  their 
wages,  and  they  agreed  with  apparent  cheer 
fulness  to  remain  with  him.  But  he  felt  that 
purposeless  drifting  depressed  them;  it  would 
be  better  to  decide  upon  some  place  and  object. 
He  took  out  his  chart  and  considered  it. 

They  had  just  passed  Barr  and  were  making 
for  South  Uist.  He  examined  the  lockers  and 
stores,  and  concluded,  as  the  provisions  were 
running  short,  to  make  direct  for  Harris.  He 
had  once  been  with  a  shooting-party  at  Tarbet, 
and  he  resolved  to  make  Harris  his  hiding- 
place. 

He  had  guns  on  board,  and  powder  and  shot. 
He  was  thoroughly  weary  of  the  sea.  He 


RETRIBUTION.  301 

could  run  the  yacht  into  some  quiet  cove  on  the 
south  of  the  island  and  lose  himself  for  years,  if 
hs  desired  to  do  so,  in  the  woody  wilderness 
that  still  existed  there. 

He  spoke  to  the  men  of  his  plan,  and  it 
pleased  them.  A  return  to  Nature  and  the  first 
principles  of  living  finds  an  echo  more  or  less 
strong  in  all  hearts.  The  weather,  though  still 
wintry  in  that  high  latitude,  would  every  day  be 
growing  warmer.  A  sort  of  Robinson  Crusoe 
life  was  planned,  and  the  two  men  looked  for 
ward  to  it  with  almost  boyish  delight. 

At  Taransay  they  bought  some  fine  deer- 
hounds  and  other  dogs  necessary  for  sport, 
some  materials  for  fishing,  and  a  few  rude  cook 
ing  utensils  for  outdoor  life.  Their  yacht  was  to 
be  moored  as  a  kind  of  store-house  and  also  as 
a  shelter  in  bad  weather. 

At  this  day,  Maxwell  would  probably  have 
been  intruded  upon  in  his  wilderness ;  but  then 
southern  Harris  was  almost  in  a  primeval  con 
dition.  The  great  deer  forests,  the  fine  sea 
lochs  running  inland,  and  the  little  crofter 
townships  on  the  coast  were  scarcely  known 
to  any  one  but  the  proprietor  of  the  island  and 
his  factor.  Maxwell  was  confident  that  he  was 


3O2  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McXEIL. 

as  practically  cut  off  from  the  world  as  if  he 
were  in  Central  Africa. 

He  did  not  suffer  much  from  fear  of  the  law. 
He  did  not  believe  that  Grizelda  would  permit 
her  private  life  to  be  discussed  by  the  public ; 
he  was  equally  sure  that  Julia  would  retire  as 
quietly  as  possible  with  her  shame  and  her 
wrongs.  He  was  positive  that  Peppo  had  not 
come  himself,  and  brought  Caterina  also,  such 
a  distance  without  a  large  sum  of  money,  and 
equally  positive  that  Peppo,  having  money, 
would  be  miserable  unless  he  was  spending  it 
on  the  Roman  Corso. 

He  arrived,  therefore,  readily  enough  at  the 
conclusion  which  had  really  been  come  to. 
Grizelda's  rights  having  -been  asserted  and  ac 
knowledged,  he  would  be  permitted  to  live  his 
own  life  if  he  never  interfered  with  them.  And 
as  long  as  Julia  lived,  he  felt  that  he  must  be  an 
exile  from  everything  he  valued.  For  though 
he  flattered  himself  that  Grizelda  would  forgive 
him,  he  dared  not  take  advantage  of  her  clem 
ency.  If  he  did  so,  Julia's  family  would  pursue 
him  with  an  unrelenting  hatred. 

After  all,  as  time  went  on  he  made  himself 
very  comfortable.  In  the  green  peace  of  the 


RETRIBUTIOX.  303 

Harris  wilderness  he  was  spending  the  summer 
very  much  to  his  mind.  "  In  a  few  months," 
he  reflected,  "  the  hue-and-cry  will  be  over. 
Nothing  lasts  in  this  world.  Then  I  will  go  to 
Greece,  and  write  to  my  lawyer  and  insist  upon 
a  proper  allowance  from  my  estates.  Grizelda 
is  sure  to  favour  it.  With,  say,  five  thousand 
pounds  a  year,  I  can  be  very  happy.  Bah !  I 
am  only  thirty-five  years  old ;  the  world  is  all 
before  me  yet." 

As  he  regained  his  confidence  and  his  hopes, 
he  regained,  however,  his  arrogance  and  his 
ungovernable  temper.  At  first  the  two  sailors 
had  been  treated  by  him  with  that  kind  of  good- 
comradeship  which  the  circumstances  seemed  to 
warrant.  They  had  never  imposed  upon  it,  and 
never  forgotten  that  he  was  their  employer; 
but  when  Maxwell  began  again  his  bullying 
abuse,  his  peremptory  tone  and  manner,  his 
reckless  disregard  of  all  created  things  but 
himself,  they  very  quickly  took  refuge  in  a 
sullen  indifference  to  his  orders  and  long  ab 
sences  from  his  presence. 

This  state  of  things  did  not  occur,  however, 
until  the  summer  was  nearly  over,  and  when  he 
was  almost  careless  as  to  whether  they  left  him 


304  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL. 

or  not.  It  would  be  easy  in  Tarbet  to  get  men 
who  were  better  sailors,  and  who  would  carry 
the  yacht  southward  and  into  the  direct  way  of 
meeting  some  of  the  large  merchant  ships  leav 
ing  the  ports  of  Greenock  or  Glasgow. 

He  was  thinking  over  this  plan  one  afternoon. 
The  weather  had  turned  chilly  and  damp ;  the 
men  were  tired  of  their  holiday,  and  sitting 
gloomily  apart,  talking  of  their  friends  in  Ed- 
derloch.  In  a  week  or  two,  the  winter  in  all  its 
fury  might  be  upon  them.  Maxwell  noticed 
that  they  looked  toward  the  yacht  as  they 
talked.  His  suspicious  nature  instantly  accused 
them  of  an  intention  to  go  off  with  it.  But  he 
did  not  give  voice  to  his  suspicions;  he  only 
showed  the  temper,  otherwise  controlled,  by 
kicking  violently  out  of  his  way  a  pet  hound 
belonging  to  one  of  the  men. 

The  dog's  master  flamed  in  a  moment.  Lu- 
tha  was  sick,  he  said ;  and  if  a  man  that  called 
himself  a  gentleman  wanted  to  kick  brutes 
about,  there  were  plenty  of  them  around  that 
were  well  enough  to  defend  themselves. 

But  when  it  came  to  a  matter  of  abuse,  the 
sailors  were  dumb  before  the  spirit  they  had 
raised.  Maxwell  could  curse  in  half  a  dozen 


RETRIBUTION.  305 

languages  at  once,  and  the  long  habit  of  power 
was  in  his  favour.  He  stormed  them  into  a 
sullen  calm,  and  then  left  them.  A  little  later 
in  the  evening  he  kicked  the  dog  again,  and  it 
bit  him. 

Then  a  terrible  fight  ensued,  in  which  man 
and  dog  both  did  their  worst.  Maxwell  would 
not  permit  his  companions  to  interfere.  He 
had  a  deer-knife  on  him,  and  after  a  demo 
niacal  struggle  he  cut  the  dog's  throat;  but 
his  own  hands  were  severely  torn  by  the  brute's 
teeth.  He  washed  them  in  running  water,  and 
determined  with  the  morning's  tide  to  take 
the  yacht  into  Tarbet  and  have  the  wounds 
dressed ;  but  when  morning  came  there  seemed 
to  be  no  need  of  the  northward  journey,  and  a 
passionate  longing  to  go  south  as  quickly  as 
possible  was  on  him. 

They  began  that  day  to  prepare  the  yacht. 
Maxwell  was  in  a  feverish  hurry,  and  the  men 
were  willing  to  humour  him.  But  that  night 
there  came  from  the  north  a  great  storm ;  all  of 
them  were  drenched  through,  and  the  next  day 
all  were  sick  and  unable  to  move.  A  miserable 
two  weeks  passed,  in  which  mutual  reproaches 
did  not  help  the  racking  chills  and  pains  and 

20 


306  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  Me  NEIL. 

unavoidable  wants  of  their  condition.  Then  the 
sailors  were  well  again,  but  Maxwell  did  not 
rally  so  quickly.  He  was  so  restless  and  fret 
ful  and  passionate  that  the  men  looked  fearfully 
at  him.  Had  he  really  lost  his  senses?  And 
might  he  do  them  some  bodily  harm? 

They  kept  a  watch  over  him,  at  the  same 
time  preparing  the  yacht  for  her  voyage.  At 
sundown  one  night  she  was  ready  for  sea;  and 
Maxwell  gave  orders  to  lift  her  anchor  the  next 
morning.  One  of  the  men  rose  early  and  made  I 
a  cup  of  coffee.  Maxwell  sat  on  a  camp-stool 
watching  him;  he  looked  miserable,  his  eyes 
were  full  of  a  dull  fire,  and  wild  as  those  of 
a  hunted  animal. 

When  the  coffee  was  brought  to  him,  he 
dashed  it  away,  and  threw  himself  on  the 
ground  in  a  paroxysm  of  strangulation  and 
horror.  He  had  a  fit,  and  he  came  out  of  it 
with  the  knowledge  in  his  heart  of  the  awful 
fate  waiting  for  him. 

But  he  said  to  the  men  that  he  was  subject 
to  such  fits,  and  ordered  them  to  help  him  on 
board.  The  moment  he  heard  the  lap  of  the 
water  on  the  beach,  he  had  another  paroxysm. 
To  go  to  sea  was  now  impossible.  Every  hour 


RE  TRIE  UTION.  3  o/ 

of  the  day  he  grew  worse.  A  night  of  inde 
scribable  terror  was  passed  in  that  lonely  wood. 
The  two  sailors  were  forced  to  hide  themselves 
from  their  possessed  master;  but  they  heard, 
all  through  the  dark  midnight,  shrieks  and  cries 
of  a  torment  beyond  humanity. 

Early  in  the  morning  they  stole  away  in  the 
yacht,  and  put  northward  to  Tarbet  with  all 
speed.  No  nearer  help  could  be  got.  They 
ran  away  as  if  from  the  gates  of  hell ;  they  did 
not  dare  cast  a  look  behind  them,  but  far  over 
the  lonely  waters  the  wind  brought  them  such 
awful  echoes  that  their  hearts  fainted,  and  they 
covered  their  ears  and  prayed  audibly  as  they 
went  plunging,  with  every  sail  set,  out  of  their 
hearing. 

In  the  midst  of  a  tempest  they  reached  and 
yet  hardly  reached  Tarbet ;  for  the  yacht  struck 
a  reef  and  had  to  be  abandoned,  and  they  were 
saved  only  by  the  skill  and  bravery  of  the  coast 
fishermen.  Their  tale  met  with  an  instant  pity ; 
but  what  could  be  done?  The  storm  was  of 
unusual  severity,  the  wind  tore  everything  to 
ribbons,  the  rain  came  down  in  torrents,  land 
travel  was  impossible,  there  was  not  a  boat  in 
harbour  able  to  live  in  the  sea  outside. 


308  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  MCNEIL. 

It  was  ten  days  before  the  best  men  in  Tar- 
bet  dared  venture  out  on  their  humane  errand. 
What  could  they  hope  to  find?  They  only 
looked  in  each  other's  face  for  answer.  When 
they  arrived  at  the  summer  camp,  the  sun  was 
shining  and  the  sea-birds  pluming  themselves 
on  the  rocks;  but  the  signs  of  the  storm  were 
everywhere.  All  traces  of  human  life  had  been 
washed  away ;  a  tree  had  fallen  across  the  place 
where  their  kettle  had  hung;  great  branches 
were  scattered  all  over  the  forest,  as  if  the 
powers  of  the  air  had  used  them  as  weapons. 
The  rain  must  have  equalled  the  wind,  it  had 
cut  gullies  for  itself  on  every  hand;  the  moss 
had  become  dangerous  to  walk  on;  the  well- 
worn  path  to  the  sea,  almost  a  morass. 

They  called  the  dogs,  but  none  answered. 
They  sought  long  for  what  they  wanted  ere  it 
was  found ;  then  with  low  cries  of  horror  and 
whispered  prayers  they  turned  their  backs  on 
the  sight.  That  regard  for  the  dead,  which  is 
among  primitive  peoples  almost  a  piety,  alone 
enabled  them  to  pay  what  last  duty  it  was 
possible  to  pay. 

But  they  sought  the  dogs  no  more.  Whether 
they  were  dead  also,  or  whether  they  wandered 


RETRIBUTION.  309 

about  the  fastnesses  of  Chesham,  no  one  could 
ever  be  induced  to  inquire. 

But  for  many  a  year  the  pious  fishers  on  this 
lonely  coast  used  to  say  they  heard  from  Renis 
Head  to  Taransay,  long,  weird,  melancholy 
howls  that  filled  all  the  spaces  of  land  and  sea 
with  mournful  clamour;  and  then  they  would 
talk  in  fearful  whispers  of  the  wretched  soul 
that  from  its  tortured  body  went  forth  in  rack 
and  tempest  to  its  own  place. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE  LAIRD   IS    SATISFIED. 

Say  not  the  struggle  naught  availeth, 
The  labour  and  the  wounds  are  vain ; 

For  while  the  tired  waves  vainly  breaking 

Seem  here  no  painful  inch  to  gain, 
Far  back,  through  creeks  and  inlets  making, 
Comes  silent,  flooding  in,  the  main. 

CLOUGH. 

A  happy  wedding  as,  I  ween, 
The  best  of  life's  romances. 

PETOFI. 

AT  EVER  within  the  memory  of  any  living 
•*•  ^  being  in  Knapdale  had  there  been  such 
an  event  as  the  Maxwell  marriages  to  discuss; 
and  never  had  there  been  so  much  visiting. 
Families  long  on  terms  of  scant  courtesy  made 
friends  over  it.  The  affair  was  felt  in  a  manner 
to  touch  everyone's  honour;  for  it  was  impor 
tant  to  come  to  a  proper  decision  as  to  which 
of  the  parties  was  to  blame.  If  Lady  Maxwell, 
then,  of  course,  she  could  not  be  visited ;  if 
Lord  Maxwell,  then  some  degree  of  pitying 
courtesy  might  be  granted. 


THE  LAIRD  IS  SATISFIED.  311 

Grizclda  took  her  own  place  with  an  appar 
ent  calm  indifference  to  public  opinion;  but 
she  was  in  reality  very  susceptible,  as  any  good 
woman  is,  and  ought  to  be,  to  the  criticisms  of 
her  neighbours.  She  wished  to  stand  well  with 
them.  She  had  been  so  long  isolated  that  she 
had  a  very  natural  craving  for  the  companion 
ship  of  her  social  equals.  She  was  grateful  to 
those  ladies  who  called  and  gave  her  an  op 
portunity  to  encourage  their  good-will. 

Maxwell's  sudden  flight,  and  his  cowardly 
desertion  of  Julia  in  the  hour  of  her  humilia 
tion  were  universally  condemned.  Every  man 
spoke  of  it,  and  every  man  felt  himself  to  be 
immeasurably  above  and  beyond  such  a  das 
tardly  deed.  And  it  was  noticeable  that  as 
each  one  explained  the  course  he  would  have 
taken,  the  more  chivalrous  and  impossible  that 
course,  the  more  positively  it  was  asserted  to 
be  the  only  one  which  would  have  adequately 
met  the  situation.  Nor  was  this  sentiment  alto 
gether  a  false  one.  In  great  emergencies,  men 
can  do  great  things  much  more  easily  than 
small  ones.  A  Rubicon  may  be  crossed  rather 
than  some  trifling  social  demand  obeyed. 

But  it  is  characteristic  of  our  age  that  nothing 


312  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  Me  NEIL. 

lasts.  The  old  nine  days'  wonder  has  dwindled 
down  to  at  most  thirty-six  hours.  Anything 
older  is  ancient  history.  Maxwell's  memory 
was  only  kept  alive  by  the  uncertainty  of  his 
fate;  and  even  this  uncertainty  became,  in  a 
week  or  two,  a  bore. 

The  hotel  filled  with  guests,  many  of  them 
remarkable  ones ;  the  villagers  had  their  hands 
full,  and  were  making  money.  The  gentry  had 
their  houses  full,  and  were  giving  entertainments. 
The  person  so  foolish  as  to  mention  Maxwell 
was  quickly  made  to  feel  that  he  had  committed 
a  social  blunder.  For  even  where  there  is  the 
average  kindness  of  heart,  how  soon  people  get 
over  things !  Which  of  us  has  a  friend  who  has 
permanently  suffered  by  his  feelings?  Which 
of  us  is  not  aware  that,  out  of  our  immediate 
domestic  relations,  wife,  husband,  children, 
money  matters,  there  is  nothing  we  could  not 
face  with  tolerable  equanimity? 

To  Grizelda  the  summer  went  by  happily. 
She  almost  felt  as  if  it  were  wrong  to  be  so 
happy;  and  yet  this  mental  accusation  of  her 
self  could  never  stand  examination.  She  had 
no  cause  to  give  her  husband  regret.  He  had 
hated  and  tortured  her;  he  had  betrayed  her 


THE  LAIRD  IS  SATISFIED.  313 

to  Death,  careless  either  of  her  honour  or  suffer 
ing.  And  in  that  last  momentary  meeting, 
when  he  had  found  his  crime  unaccomplished, 
he  had  glanced  at  her  with  the  hatred  of  hell 
in  his  eyes.  That  he  had  run  away  from  the 
shame  and  distress  his  passion  had  created  was 
quite  in  keeping  with  the  man's  cruel,  craven 
nature.  She  would  have  been  astonished  if  he 
had  remained  by  the  side  of  his  suffering 
partner. 

For  upon  Julia  Casselis  fell  the  weight  of  the 
shameful  position.  When  she  recovered  con 
sciousness,  twelve  hours  after  Maxwell's  flight, 
they  were  compelled  to  tell  her  that  she  had 
been  deserted.  She  took  the  news  as  passion 
ate  women  without  self-restraint  are  sure  to 
take  an  event  full  of  sorrow  and  mortification. 
She  upbraided  God  and  man  and  destiny,  her 
friends  and  her  enemies  alike.  She  refused 
all  Grizelda's  offers.  She  went  into  hysterics 
if  she  but  heard  her  voice.  She  vowed  she 
would  not  leave  Blairgowrie,  nor  yet  would 
she  permit  Grizelda  under  the  same  roof  with 
her. 

The  situation  was  a  trying  one  to  the  real 
mistress  of  the  house.  McNeil  insisted  upon 


3  14  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  Me  NEIL. 

her  resuming  at  once  the  rights  which  nothing 
had  taken,  or  could  take  from  her.  As  soon, 
therefore,  as  Julia  had  been  carried  to  her  bed 
room,  Lady  Maxwell  called  together  the  house 
hold,  and  enrolled  them  anew  in  her  service. 
All  but  Julia's  personal  maid  accepted  the 
change  gladly.  The  latter  was  a  London  wo 
man  of  the  highest  pretensions,  and  no  offer 
was  made  to  induce  her  to  desert  her  mistress. 

The  Earl  of  Lauder  was  then  written  to.  But 
some  days  must  elapse  before  his  arrival,  and 
Grizelda  explained  this,  through  Julia's  maid, 
to  her.  The  rooms  she  had  occupied  at  Blair- 
gowrie  were  placed  at  her  service  until  her 
friends  came.  Julia's  temper  would  not  per 
mit  her  to  accept  them.  As  soon  as  she  could 
control  herself  she  ordered  her  effects  to  be 
packed,  and  in  the  mean  time  sent  word  to 
several  of  the  families  with  whom  she  had  been 
most  intimate,  of  the  strait  she  was  in. 

Unfortunately,  in  every  case  there  was  an 
insurmountable  obstacle  to  her  entertainment. 
One  was  just  going  away;  another  had  every 
room  full ;  a  third  had  sickness  in  the  house 
which  might  prove  contagious.  She  could  go 
to  the  hotel,  but  she  dreaded  the  publicity ;  and 


THE  LAIRD  IS  SATISFIED.  315 

besides,  it  was  in  reality  the  McNeil  Hotel. 
No  roof  of  McNeil's  should  shelter  her. 

In  this  dilemma,  Doctor  Brodick  offered  the 
hospitality  of  the  manse,  and  the  lady  accepted 
it.  This  relationship  at  once  changed  the  good 
doctor's  attitude.  She  was  now  his  guest,  and 
he  busied  himself  for  her  comfort.  He  gave  up 
his  own  room;  he  escorted  her  from  Blair- 
gowrie  with  respectful  care,  and  soothed  her 
passionate  grief  with  that  gentle  forbearance 
and  wisdom  which,  while  hating  the  sin,  deals 
pitifully  and  patiently  with  the  sinner. 

Still,  he  would  listen  to  none  of  her  tirades 
against  Grizelda ;  and  he  upheld  McNeil's  course 
as  the  only  proper  course  for  a  father  to  pursue. 
Equally  just  was  he  when  her  anger  turned 
upon  Lord  Maxwell. 

"  My  dear  lady,"  he  said,  "  you  are  alike  in 
the  fault.  It  is  aye  Eve  that  offers  the  temp 
tation.  If  you  had  not  been  from  the  first 
mair  kind  than  you  ought  to  have  been,  there 
would  not  have  followed  blood-money  and 
false  marriage." 

"  Maxwell  loved  me  from  my  childhood." 

"There  is  no  man,  my  lady,  that  will  sin  for 
a  woman  if  she  gives  him  neither  recompense 


316  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  Me  NEIL. 

nor  hope.  Why  should  he?  Maxwell  under 
stood  from  you  that  if  Grizelda  were  out  of 
the  way  you  would  marry  him ;  so  he  put 
Grizelda  out  of  the  way." 

"  I  never  uttered  such  a  thought." 

"There  was  no  need  of  words.  The  eyes, 
the  lips,  the  hands,  the  feet  can  speak.  Oh ! 
madam,  no  doubt  you  offered  him  the  apple 
a  thousand  times." 

"  He  loved  me,  and  I  loved  him.  We 
belonged  to  each  other  by  ties  stronger  than 
those  of  marriage." 

"  Let  me  tell  you,  madam,  there  is  no  tie 
stronger  than  a  promise  to  Almighty  God.  I 
myself  heard  that  promise  from  Maxwell's  lips 
when  he  took  Grizelda  McNeil  to  wife,  and 
vowed  to  love  and  cherish  her  all  his  days." 

"Then  it  was  a  cruel  fate  that  threw  us 
together  afterward." 

"  Madam,  sin  is  not  the  result  of  fate,  or  of 
any  particular  state  of  things.  There  is  in  the 
sinner  an  inherent  weakness,  and  an  openness 
to  attack,  which,  sooner  or  later,  would  have 
led  him  or  her  into  the  same  crime,  whatever 
circumstances  prevailed.  The  trouble  is  that 
sinners  do  not  count  the  cost;  they  will  not 


THE  LAIRD  IS  SATISFIED.  317 

see  that  sin  and  punishment  grow  out  of  one 
stem." 

Such  conversations  as  these,  though  main 
tained  in  the  kindest  spirit  by  the  minister,  did 
not  please  Julia;  and  she  grew  so  impatient  of 
her  position  that  on  the  morning  of  the  third 
day  she  left  Edderloch,  without  any  escort  but 
that  of  her  maid.  She  knew  the  hotel  her 
Uncle  Lauder  would  rest  at  in  Glasgow,  and 
she  resolved  to  meet  him  there. 

It  was  a  great  relief  to  every  one  when  she 
departed.  Already  she  had  worn  out  what 
little  popular  sympathy  was  directed  to  her; 
and  it  was  now  every  one's  interest  to  be 
friendly  with  McNeil.  He  was  left  without  a 
peer  in  Knapdale.  Not  only  would  he  controul 
his  own  lands  and  enterprises,  but  it  was  most 
likely  he  would  be  appointed  guardian  of  the 
young  lord,  and  of  Blairgowrie. 

As  the  months  went  by,  the  conviction  grew 
that  Maxwell  was  dead.  None  of  the  advertise 
ments,  carefully  worded  to  his  circumstances 
and  needs,  had  been  answered,  though  inserted 
in  the  principal  papers  of  all  countries  likely 
to  be  his  retreat.  No  one  had  seen  the  yacht. 
It  had  put  into  no  port ;  it  had  not  been  met 


3  1 8  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  MCNEIL. 

by  any  incoming  or  outgoing  vessel.  The  two 
sailors  whom  he  took  with  him  had  never  re 
turned.  It  was  remembered  that  there  had  been 
a  severe  storm  the  first  night  after  the  flight, 
and  every  one  believed  that  the  yacht  and  all 
on  board  had  gone  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 

But  with  the  return  of  the  spring,  the  men 
who  had  accompanied  Maxwell,  came  back  to 
Edderloch.  They  had  been  caught  by  the 
winter  when  they  were  without  money,  in  Harris, 
and  had  remained  in  Tarbet,  doing  such  work 
as  they  were  able  to  find,  until  the  fine  weather 
enabled  them  to  obtain  a  passage  home  on  the 
early  trading-boats.  They  went  at  once  to  the 
minister  with  the  news  of  Maxwell's  death,  and 
to  him  they  spared  none  of  its  dreadful  details. 

Brodick  was  profoundly  impressed;  he  was 
almost  terrified  at  the  verification  of  his  own 
prophecy. 

"The  words  came  from  the  Lord,"  he  said, 
"  and  I  am  His  servant.  The  message  He  gives 
me,  shall  I  not  deliver  it?" 

Yet  as  he  softly  paced  his  room  to  the  tumult 
of  his  thoughts,  a  great  pity  for  the  miserable 
man  came  over  him.  That  impulse  to  pray  for 
the  dead,  which  every  heart  has  felt  to  be 


THE  LAIRD  IS  SATISFIED.  319 

deeper  than  creed  and  stronger  than  reason, 
made  him  suddenly  pause,  and,  with  clasped 
hands,  raise  his  eyes  to  heaven;  and  though 
his  lips  moved  not,  his  soul  recalled,  like 
flashes  of  light,  the  promises  of  God's  ever 
lasting  mercy. 

Into  this  strife  of  feeling  and  reason  came  the 
laird.  He  brought  into  the  study  the  freshness 
of  the  spring,  the  atmosphere  of  primroses 
and  cuckoos,  and  the  gurgling  of  fresh  water 
courses.  Brodick's  face  was  like  an  open  book 
to  him.  He  was  accustomed  to  read  the  man's 
inmost  thoughts  there ;  and  he  said,  before  the 
minister  could  speak :  — 

"What  strange  thing  has  happened?" 

"  Maxwell  is  dead." 

"  Now,  God  be  thanked  !  " 

"  Laird !  " 

"  Yes !  God  Almighty  be  thanked  for  the 
word !  When  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling, 
it  is  good  reason  for  thanking  Him." 

"  He  died  a  dreadful  death." 

"  He  lived  an  ill  life,  which  is  in  itself  a  kind 
of  death.  To  go  before  God  with  one's  hands 
bloody !  How  terrible  that  must  be,  Brodick. 
What  came  to  him?" 


320  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL. 

He  listened  with  a  shocked  face  to  the  story. 
He  had  nothing  further  to  say.  Maxwell  had 
been  judged  by  a  Power  whose  awards  were  be 
yond  human  criticism.  But  as  the  two  men  sat 
silent  they  were  both  feeling  how  necessary  it 
was  to  take  steps  at  once  to  verify  the  report, 
and  to  prepare  for  the  future  it  entailed. 

It  was  not  considered  necessary  to  tell  Gri- 
zelda  the  manner  of  her  husband's  death. 

"  The  yacht  struck  a  reef  off  Harris,"  Colin 
said  to  her.  "  The  two  men  with  him  were 
saved,  and  have  returned.  Lord  Maxwell  is  no 
more." 

She  made  no  further  inquiry.  For  a  few 
days  she  was  exceedingly  still,  and  the  laird 
noticed,  with  a  little  private  anger,  that  her  eyes 
looked  as  if  she  had  been  weeping;  then  she 
assumed  the  widow's  mourning  garments,  for 
though  they  were  but  a  dismal  form,  yet  society 
has  certain  demands  which  no  one  is  entitled  to 
despise.  The  black  dress  and  the  band  of 
white  crape  round  her  head  were,  however,  to 
McNeil  the  livery  of  freedom  and  joy.  He 
liked  to  see  her  in  them ;  they  were  in  his 
eyes  far  more  of  festival  robes  than  the  snowy 
satin  and  sparkling  jewels  of  her  bridal  day. 


THE  LAIRD  IS  'SATISFIED.  32! 

The  whole  of  the  summer  was  much  dis 
turbed  by  this  event.  Maxwell's  lawyer,  accom 
panied  by  the  two  men  who  had  been  the  dead 
lord's  last  companions,  went  back  to  Harris  and 
removed  the  remains  to  the  family  vault  in 
Galloway.  Brodick  went  with  them.  The  laird 
asked  him  no  questions  on  his  return,  and  the 
only  remark  the  minister  made  referred  to  the 
funeral  rites. 

"It  was  an  Episcopal  clergyman  who  con 
ducted  them,"  he  said.  "  There  is  something 
for  us  to  learn,  McNeil,  from  their  service.  Our 
silent  gathering  at  the  grave-side  has  no  audible 
voice  of  tenderness  or  hope.  The  English 
Church  never  forsakes  her  dead  as  long  as  they 
are  in  the  upper  air;  she  waits  for  her  last 
solemn  farewell  at  the  grave." 

The  young  Lord  Maxwell's  affairs  were  not 
so  easily  settled.  Having  been  born  on  foreign 
ground  and  in  seclusion,  it  was  necessary  to 
prove  his  identity  and  his  parentage.  But  Gri- 
zelda  had  always  kept  this  emergency  in  view, 
and  prepared  for  it ;  so  that  the  only  difficulty  lay 
in  the  direction  of  summoning  her  witnesses. 

About  this  business  it  was  necessary  for  Colin 
to  go  again  to  Rome.  The  Donatas  were 

21 


322  THE  HOUSEHOLD  OF  McNEIL. 

pleased  at  the  prospect  of  a  visit  to  a  country 
they  had  long  wished  to  see.  Peppo,  in  view 
of  certain  tangible  profits,  was  not  averse  to  it ; 
and  he  brought  not  only  Caterina  to  Scotland, 
but  such  other  peasants  as  had  been  familiar 
with  Grizelda  during  her  stay  with  Caterina. 

Peppo  was  found  in  a  house  which  he  had 
bought,  about  sixteen  miles  from  Rome;  the 
very  finest  house  in  the  village,  of  which  he 
was  now  a  most  prominent  resident.  He  was 
filling  an  office  very  similar  to  a  justice  of 
peace,  and  filling  it  with  a  moral  severity  which 
was  the  admiration  of  the  pious,  and  the  terror 
of  those  who  came  for  judgement  before  him. 
For  Peppo  was  very  sensitive  to  the  admiration 
of  his  fellows.  His  surroundings  were  those  of 
morality  and  religion;  and  he  took  the  lead  in 
them  as  easily  as  he  had  taken  in  Rome  the 
lead  among  the  class  noted  for  their  light  fin 
gers  and  easy  virtues.  His  farm  was  prosper 
ing,  his  vineyard  doing  well;  Caterina  was  the 
most  obedient  of  wives,  and  Peppo  the  most 
satisfied  of  mortals. 

But  Grizelda  felt  even  this  passing  invasion 
of  her  old  life  a  great  trial.  There  are  friends 
raised  up  for  certain  emergencies,  who  are 


THE  LAIRD  IS  SATISFIED.  323 

best  kept  only  in  kindly  memory  after  the 
emergency  is  over.  They  leave  upon  the 
mountain-tops  of  the  past  a  lovely  light,  but 
they  do  not  fit  into  any  future  circumstances  of 
life.  Grizelda  felt  this  with  regard  to  her 
Roman  friends.  She  must  always  remember 
them  with  affection  and  gratitude,  but  they 
could  only  bring  memories  which  had  no  part 
in  her  happier  existence. 

So  she  was  not  sorry  when  all  the  forms  and 
demands  of  the  law  were  satisfied,  and  they 
could  depart.  The  Donatas  went  away  with 
hearts  full  of  pleasure  in  their  new  experiences. 
Peppo  had  a  slip  of  paper  in  his  pocket-book 
which  satisfied  all  his  expectations.  Caterina 
had  many  new  dresses  and  ornaments,  —  every 
one,  indeed,  took  back  with  him  something  to 
brighten  the  rest  of  his  years. 

As  had  been  universally  prophesied,  McNeil 
was  united  with  Grizelda  in  the  guardianship  of 
the  young  lord  and  his  estates.  And  gradually 

"  The  tumult  of  the  time  disconsolate, 
To  inarticulate  murmurs  died  away," 

and  Grizelda's  life  settled  into  that  calm,  me 
thodical  order  which  is  the  sweetness  as  well  as 
the  saltness  of  our  days.  A  governess  was  en- 


324  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL. 

gaged  for  young  Archibald,  who  proved  also  an 
excellent  companion  for  Grizelda,  and  Colin  was 
a  great  deal  of  his  time  at  Blairgowrie.  There 
was  always  some  business  to  attend  to,  and 
he  appeared  to  enjoy  being  his  uncle's  deputy. 

After  the  term  of  her  seclusion  was  over, 
Grizelda  began  to  entertain  her  neighbours,  to 
visit,  and  to  travel  a  little.  On  the  bread  of 
bitterness  she  had  grown  to  a  woman's  noblest 
stature;  and  her  patient,  pious  soul  had  im 
parted  to  her  beautiful  body  an  air  of  no 
ble  serenity  and  candour  that  was  exceedingly 
charming.  McNeil  watched  her  with  a  con 
stantly  increasing  love  and  admiration.  Colin 
was  her  worshipper  long  before  he  was  aware 
of  the  power  she  had  over  him. 

So  the  pleasant  months,  summer  and  winter, 
summer  and  winter,  went  by.  All  were  happy 
in  the  present,  and  no  one  was  so  foolish,  so 

"  O'er  exquisite 
As  to  cast  the  fashions  of  uncertain  evils  " 

for  the  future.  The  laird,  indeed,  allowed  him 
self  to  worry  a  little  because  a  certain  good 
thing  which  he  longed  for  was  unaccountably 
delayed  by  the  indecision  of  those  who  might  so 
easily  gratify  him. 


THE  LAIRD  IS  SATISFIED.  325 

For  he  saw  plainly  that  Colin  was  deeply  in 
love  with  Grizelda ;  and  as  far  as  he  could 
judge,  Grizelda  was  in  love  with  Colin.  It  was 
the  natural  thing,  the  suitable  thing  for  both. 
Then  why  did  they  not  say  so  ?  He  never  took 
into  consideration  the  numerous  shadowy  im 
pediments  to  its  own  bliss  which  love  delights 
in  inventing.  He  could  not  understand  why 
Colin  and  Grizelda  should  like  to  find  their 
desire  by  a  labyrinth,  instead  of  by  a  straight 
road.  Ah !  it  takes  youth  to  understand  that 
the  labyrinth  is,  after  all,  the  nearest  way. 

One  lovely  Sabbath  night  there  had  been  a 
great  preaching  on  the  hills.  Brodick  had  said 
words  to  the  gathered  thousands  which  sent 
them  away  solemnly  happy.  Some  were  sing 
ing  in  their  boats  to  the  measured  throb  of 
their  oars  as  they  rowed  home  in  the  glorious 
moonlight;  others  were  seeking  their  cots  in 
the  hollows  of  the  hills.  Brodick  and  McNeil 
walked  together.  The  meeting  had  been  near 
Blairgowrie,  and  they  agreed  to  call  there  and 
take  supper  with  Grizelda. 

They  entered  the  beautiful  grounds.  The 
odours  of  lilies  and  lilacs  made  the  place  like 
a  shrine.  The  silence  that  was  in  the  starry 


326  THE  HOUSEHOLD   OF  McNEIL. 

sky,  the  sleep  that  was  among  the  lonely  hills, 
the  glory  that  was  in  the  mellow  moonshine 
were  influences  that  were  irresistibly  sweet  and 
tender.  The  fragrance  made  them  stand  still  to 
wonder  over  it. 

As  they  did  so,  Colin  and  Grizelda  came  out 
of  the  lilac  walk.  She  was  clothed  in  white,  and 
in  the  enchanting  atmosphere  looked  like  an 
angel  at  Colin's  side.  He  bent  to  her,  he  drew 
her  to  his  heart,  he  kissed  her  uplifted  face. 

The  old  men  turned  silently  away,  as  if 
they  had  been  guilty  of  a  profanation.  Their 
eyes  were  wet,  and  yet  their  hearts  were  full  of 
happiness.  McNeil  was  dreaming  of  Grizelda 
in  her  own  home  again, —  of  Grizelda  the  be 
loved  wife  of  Colin;  of  Grizelda's  sons  and 
daughters  rilling  the  old  rooms  with  life,  and 
convoying  him  to  the  grave  with  their  young 
arms  around  him. 

Brodick  had  a  vision  of  his  own  youth ;  of  the 
days  when  he  had  wooed  his  lost  wife  on  the 
hills  of  Aranteenie ;  of  his  joyful  tryst  she  had 
given  him  when  dying  upon  the  hills  of  God. 
His  strong  face  was  as  tender  as  a  child's. 

"  McNeil,"  he  said,  "  it  is  a  wonderful  story, 
this  old  story  of  love !  It  is  as  fresh  to-night 


THE  LAIRD  IS  SATISFIED.  327 

in  the  garden  of  Blairgowrie  as  it  was  in  the 
Garden  of  Eden." 

"  I  am  a  happy  man,  Brodick." 

Over  the  moonlit  moor,  in  the  solitude 
and  silence  of  the  exquisite  night,  the  two 
walked  in  gladness  of  heart.  Their  tall,  mas 
sive  figures  had  a  grave  majesty;  they  carried 
with  them  the  air  of  those  men  who  lived  when 
the  world  was  young,  when  angels  walked  the 
earth  not  unseen,  and  God  himself  talked  with 
Abraham,  calling  him  "  My  Friend" 


THE  END. 


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